Dammit Jim, I'm a Doctor not a Ninja
by DancingInTheDark85
Summary: The Enterprise are horribly outnumbered by space pirates and are taken captive to be sold to the enemy. McCoy, despite being seriously injured, is the only one who can save them. Can our favourite grumpy pacifist take on an entire pirate crew and live to tell the tale? This is an action story, heavy on the Bones whump, with a healthy dash of Bones/Kirk/Spock bromance, no slash.
1. Chapter 1

Dammit Jim, I'm a Doctor not a Ninja

Summary: Major whump!Bones, angst!Kirk, hurt!bridgecrew, epic bromance and badass!Bones. No slash. Thought about seeing how many views I'd get based on that summary alone but figured I may also need to prove I have a plot. The Enterprise are horribly outnumbered by space pirates and are taken captive to be sold to the enemy. McCoy, despite being seriously injured, is the only one who can save them. Can our favourite grumpy pacifist take on an entire pirate crew and live to tell the tale?

So my last multi-chapter story had Bones in his element, caring for people, so my next story I wanted to put him out of his element. I've got most of it written so I hope to update regularly but more reviews should spur me to get it finished quicker. I hope you enjoy it.

As always I don't own these characters or this world, only the order in which I chose to place words on a page.

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Chapter 1

"It's quiet in here today." Spock observed as he entered the Med Bay.

Leonard McCoy let out a loud groan and looked up from his PADD long enough to glare at him.

"I have displeased you." Spock stated, "I do not understand, I was merely trying what you would call 'small talk'. Am I doing it wrong? Or is it my presence that offends you?"

McCoy rolled his eyes and sat his PADD down on his legs which he had crossed so that his right ankle rested on his left thigh. "It's not you I'm objecting to so much as your use of the 'q' word."

"You are objecting to my use of the word 'quiet'? I did not mean to imply you were not working, only that you did not have any patients and your nursing staff appear to be elsewhere. I believe 'quiet' is the appropriate descriptive word in these circumstances."

"I've given my team the afternoon off." McCoy explained, "On the condition that if I have to call them back in they come running. Which I will probably have to do now as you've said the 'q' word. These logs will never get done." He rolled his eyes.

"I'm afraid I still do not follow…"

"You never say the 'q' word, it's a jinx. Whenever someone remarks that it's 'q', suddenly all hell breaks loose and everything becomes chaos."

Spock frowned, "Surely you do not believe in such a…"

"Trust me." McCoy sighed, "it happened in my ER in Atlanta and it happens here too. As well as pretty much any medical facility in the known universe."

"I find your premise illogical." Spock responded. "I have come to ask when you believe your thesis on the virus we discovered on Gharah will be ready. My team have prepared theirs and we await your contribution."

"Couldn't you have just messaged me?" McCoy asked.

"I could have. But it occurred to me that it was likely that you would delete the message without responding to it, just like you have the last five times."

"Okay, fair enough. But this is the first time I've had a chance to sit down in weeks and I have a ton of other work to get through too. I'll get round to it eventually, I promise. But if you've cursed me, this latest set-back is your fault."

Spock nodded, "Very well, I…"

He was interrupted then by an almost deafening boom as the whole Med Bay shook, followed almost immediately by another two. McCoy sat up straight and uncrossed his legs to better steady himself. "What the hell?"

Spock's comm link chirped and their Captain's voice sounded above the ringing in their ears. "Err, Spock…" he wasn't his usual self-assured self. "Could you join me on the bridge please?"

"See," McCoy growled. "You jinxed it." Spock turned on his heels and began jogging towards the bridge. McCoy rolled his eyes and decided to join him. There was no way his logs were getting written now anyway.

The doctor and the Vulcan came onto the bridge in minutes, just as another boom rocked the ship, causing them both to stagger. McCoy's stomach lurched and he had to grip the doorway to steady himself. He noticed that frustratingly Spock had recovered already and had stood beside Kirk, hands clasped loosely behind his back. He stood up straight and walked into the bridge as casually as he could, trying to breathe silently so as not to let on that the jog from the Med Bay had affected him.

If Spock had been reading his thoughts, he would have pointed out to the doctor that caring what people thought of his fitness levels was illogical right now. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the huge display windows in front of them and the ship that was heading straight for them at great speed. The approaching ship looked old to McCoy's untrained eye. In fact, it looked like it had been stolen from a scrappers yard, pieced together from various pieces of metal to make the monstrosity in front of them. It wasn't big, only a fraction of the size of the Enterprise, but it was fast.

"Have they hailed us Captain?" Spock asked, his voice as neutral as ever.

"Nope, seems they're more the 'shoot first, questions later' types." Jim Kirk replied. He was trying to look relaxed but McCoy noticed he had a firm grip on the arm rest. "Mr Sulu evasive manoeuvres. Chekov, plot a course and get us to warp speed as soon as possible. I'm in no mood to get shot down by these lunatics."

"Keptin, it appears our power source is damaged."

"Scotty?" Kirk asked through the comm link to engineering.

"Aye Sir." Scotty was shouting over a huge din in the background. The officers on the bridge could hear people shouting orders and the harsh sound of metal grinding together. "We took a direct hit tae one of the power cores. I can reroute some of the power to the other cores. We can limp away but cannae get tae warp speed."

Kirk nodded at the information, despite the fact the Scot wouldn't be able to see it. "Okay, arm the photon torpedoes. Uhura, can you give them a hail?"

"What happened to our shields?" Spock asked, eyebrow raised.

"They're jamming them." Sulu threw the comment over his shoulder as he concentrated on the display in front of him.

McCoy watched his captain from the rear of the bridge. Jim Kirk had been such a hothead when they'd first met that he'd questioned the blatant string-pulling of Admiral Pike to get him the captaincy. Not that he didn't like Jim at first, the brash young kid had endeared himself to the older man quickly and it was clear he was a genius who was just as good at getting out of trouble as he was into it, but still to give so much responsibility to one so young was… well Spock would say it was illogical. But now, years on, Kirk sat in that chair like he was born to it, the orders being given with a calm confidence, not the old cockiness of the past.

The hail was answered and the viewscreen filled with the craggy face of a human male. He looked to be in his fifties, but a tough life had put deep lines in his hard face and there was a large scar running from his forehead, cutting into his eyebrow and across to his right ear where the lobe was missing. McCoy grimaced internally at the old injury, these days healing techniques were so good that scars were almost non-existent unless the patient had managed to heal with no medical intervention at all. Even then, work could be done to reduce their appearance. The fact that this man hadn't bothered to correct the disfigurement implied he liked it that way, probably to enhance the menacing look that he was going for. He'd added to the look by shaving his head and covering it in tattoos that extended down his neck.

"This is Captain James T Kirk of the Federation Starship Enterprise, cease your fire and identify yourself."

The man on the screen cracked an unfriendly smile, "Captain James T, I have another suggestion. Surrender yourselves and prepare to be boarded."

"You're not in any position to make demands, you have photon tor…"

"No, I think you'll find I'm in a perfect position." And then perfectly on cue the space in front of them was filled with half a dozen more ships as they came out of warp speed. They all appeared to be run down bastardisations of old models but retrofitted for whatever purpose they now served.

"Keptin, first scans show the ships have been modified." Chekov muttered, just loud enough for Kirk to hear. "They're armed to the teeth and ready to fire."

Kirk paused as this new information sank in.

"So this is the famous Captain Kirk? You're not what I expected. Quite frankly for someone who is such a pain in the Romulans' butt I'd expect you to be… I don't know, taller for a start."

"You seem to have be at a disadvantage. Sounds like the rumours have travelled faster than warp speed but I'm afraid you're not quite so infamous. To whom am I speaking?"

"The future captain of the Enterprise. You may be Starfleet's flagship but you're a long way from aid out here in the black and your ship was never designed for warfare. You know what they say about deep space, no one can hear you scream. Because I am a reasonable man, you have three choices before you Captain. The first is you attempt to fire on us, you may take out my ship but as your scans have shown my shielding is exceptional and there are many of us and you'll find these other Captain's not so forgiving as I am. The second is you allow us to board and come at us, phasers at the ready, you may kill a few of us but if I were a gambling man I would place money on pirates and mercenaries over scientists and engineers no matter what the circumstances. Your third option is this, you allow your crew to board the escape pods, off they sail, unharmed, and you allow me to take control of the ship. The nearest planet is a bit of a shithole, but they'll all survive, as captain I'd expect you to go down with your ship of course, but you'd save a lot of lives doing it. I know which one I'd choose."

McCoy watched Kirk's face tighten in a grim frown as he considered the options laid out before him. He looked again to the tough looking man on the screen and at the ships in a holding pattern. He knew what he'd do, but then McCoy had always been a healer not a fighter.

Kirk then sounded over the ship-wide intercom. "This is an order from your Captain. All personnel are to evacuate to the escape pods immediately." He finished the transmission and turned to Chekov. "Mr Chekov, will you please ensure all escape pods are programmed with the co-ordinates for the nearest habitable planet."

"Very good Captain. Not so reckless as your reputation suggests." The man sneered and interrupted the transmission.

"You'd better all get going." Kirk said firmly, but he didn't move from his chair, his hands white-knuckling the arms.

The rest of the crew got up to move but their Captain stayed still. McCoy watched to see who was leaving, Sulu and Chekov had darted from their seat as had many of the others but he found he couldn't move, wouldn't move until Jim did. Spock and Uhura also refused to budge.

"Captain?" Spock ventured, "We do not have long before the pirates board."

He nodded, "So you'd better get going." He said coldly.

"Jim…" McCoy started.

"Bones," he cut in, "I'm getting the crew off here, but he's right, I'm not going down without a fight. If he wants it he'll have to take it from my cold dead fingers."

McCoy was about to protest, when the doors to the bridge swished back open and in ran Sulu and Chekov. They hadn't gone to the escape pods after all, the pair had carried what they could from the armoury and distributed the weapons amongst the remaining crew. Sulu had retrieved his sword and stood just to the side of the doorway ready to use it. Chekov pressed a phaser into McCoy's hand and gave him a defeated smile as McCoy's fingers curled round the weapon almost involuntarily. "Aww hell!" he growled, readying his stance in preparation for attack.

The door swished open again and Sulu swung his sword at the intruder, barely stopping in time as Uhura let out a scream, "No!"

Stood in the doorway was a bewildered Scotty, heaving great gasps of air from his sprint down the hall and subsequent near death at the hands of their pilot. "My scans indicated there were still a few people on board, why aren't ye…" He stopped and looked at everyone, armed and standing their ground and the scene before him sank in. "Aww, yer all bloody idiots!" He exclaimed as he snatched a phaser that Sulu quietly offered him and then came to stand next to Spock.

"I've got a bad feelin' about this." He muttered. McCoy couldn't help but share his sentiment.

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The wait was agonising. Almost so long that McCoy could almost fool himself into believing that they'd changed their mind, if it weren't for the fact that there were ships looming menacingly behind them just beyond the viewing window. And then there were noises, booted feet marching down the metal corridor, getting painfully closer and closer to the bridge. McCoy could feel his palm beginning to sweat, making the grip on his phaser slip, legs shaking, heart pounding in his throat. He'd never killed anyone before, stunned them with a phaser, yes, and thankfully he knew from that experience that he was a reasonably good shot, but had never taken a life. He wasn't even sure if he could, when it came down to it, but he knew as well as the others did that this wasn't the time to be playing pacifist.

Chekov was stood beside him and he could feel the young Russian quivering too. The boy, and McCoy would always think of him as a boy even though he was now in his early twenties, had been so assured when he'd handed the doctor his weapon, but it appeared the longer they waited the more time they had to fear what was coming. On his other side, Jim was calm and collected, as though he was a veteran soldier waiting grimly for the final showdown. Uhura too had a look of determination on her face and Spock…, well Spock just looked like he always did. They'd all done the academy training, but although Starfleet was a military organisation they weren't soldiers, McCoy's mind screamed, the peaceful nature of the Federation meant that very few were, and taking on deep space pirates was certain to end in their doom.

The boots stopped outside their door. The remaining crew of the Enterprise all held their breath. "We know you're in there." The deep voice from the transmission booming through the door. "Lay down your weapons and come quietly." Kirk gave a slight shake of his head and that was all the indication they needed. The doors slid open and McCoy froze in a moment of fear. Sulu didn't, and as soon as the group of pirates entered the room he swung his sword down, the blade cleaved through the blue humanoid's neck, taking the male's head clear off before swinging it round and driving it through the chest of a human female dressed in leather. In the same instant, the intruders came in firing, there was a sharp gasp as Kirk was hit, but he stayed on his feet. The head that Sulu had decapitated bounced as it hit the floor and rolled a couple of times before it came to rest at the feet of the pirate captain. McCoy wanted to be sick.

The pirate captain held up his hand to stop his crew and looked down at the head at his feet, then up at Kirk. McCoy looked his friend over, the phaser had burned through Kirk's left sleeve, the smell of burning flesh was distinctive and he held his arm tight to his body. McCoy tried to see the extent of the damage but he was on the wrong side of him to get a good look.

"Huh." The pirate stated, looking them over. "I didn't expect you to spill the first blood. But then I didn't expect you to be stupid enough to duel it out." He still had his hand up, holding his team of about twenty mercenaries at bay. Twenty? If McCoy hadn't been sure before, now he knew they'd made a mistake. "But there's still enough time to negotiate. You've taken two of mine, let me take two of yours and we're even." He said and fired a shot.

McCoy saw what was going to happen even before his brain could process it, barrelling into the young navigator and wrapping him in his arms as the pair of them crashed to the floor. McCoy was on the floor, Chekov pinned underneath him before his body registered the agony that burned through his back, burrowing deep into his ribs. He could hear the shouting of his teammates although the blood rushing in his ears was louder. He could feel Chekov's heart beating next to his, feel his panicked breath on his cheek. McCoy coughed and was vaguely aware of spraying blood and spittle all over Chekov's face. He had a moment to realise that wasn't good but then his vision started fading and he could hear Chekov whimpering his name under his breath and Kirk shouting, "Okay, okay, just don't hurt my crew."

He felt rough hands on his biceps as someone grabbed him and shoved him off the distraught Russian. As he was let go his face landed hard against the floor of the bridge but he didn't have the strength to do anything about it or even cry out. And then a boot landed square in his ribs and his last thing he was aware of was the sound of his ribs breaking.

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"Stop!" Kirk yelled. "Please stop." He tried to hold back the panic but he'd just watched his best friend leap in front of a phaser blast to protect his youngest officer. He held his hands up in surrender, how could he have called this so wrong? He knew he needed to be paying attention to the pirates but he'd just watched his best friend go down and his mind was screaming that it was all his fault. He could see Chekov pinned under the body of the chief medical officer, blood and charred flesh covering them both. Sulu had gone down too, he was laid propped against the wall and clutching at his thigh, his sword had been wrenched from his hands. Kirk barely felt his own wound, it was insignificant compared to the ache in his chest at the sight of Bones lying motionless.

The pirate captain held up his hand and his crew held their fire. He beckoned some of his men forward and two burly pirates stepped forward towards Kirk's crew. He held still, as did the rest of his team as the men collected their weapons, but he nearly lost it when the bigger one of them grabbed McCoy by the arms and hauled him off of Chekov. Kirk caught sight of McCoy's slack face, eyes closed and blood dripping from his mouth. The pirate dumped him on the floor as Chekov scrambled out of the way and then to make matters worse, the pirate kicked a boot into the doctor's ribs viciously. Bones didn't give any indication he'd felt it.

Chekov sat on the floor where he'd scrambled away, blood staining his face and his shirt. His eyes were transfixed on the limp body in front of him and the charred hole in the back of the blue Starfleet uniform. Kirk stepped over to him, slowly so as not to cause the young Russian or any trigger-happy pirates alarm. He crouched down to place a comforting hand on Chekov's shoulder. He wanted to collapse to his knees as well as he got a look at the smoking raw hole in Bone's back, the fabric of his uniform sticking in the blackened, ragged flesh. Kirk could see a glint of white bone deep into the wound and he had to choke down the bile rising in his throat.

Recovering himself, he took hold of the shell-shocked navigator and hauled him to his feet. As he got Chekov standing, the younger man looked at him with a hopeless expression full of guilt. Kirk imagined that his own expression was something similar. As they stood again the pirate captain stepped forward and approached Kirk. Kirk moved Chekov back behind him protectively as the pirate stopped right in front of him and stared him in the eye. Kirk set his jaw and stared back at him, and then the pirate drew back his fist and threw a punch straight to Kirk's face. Jim's head snapped back at the impact and he felt his nose bust open, causing blood to spray. He staggered back and felt Chekov's arms reach out and support him but he stayed on his feet.

"All I needed was you. You should have let the others go with the rest of the crew. Still, perhaps I can double the price for all of you." The pirate captain sneered. He gestured to his men and more came forward to manhandle Kirk's team forward. "Take them to the brig." The man ordered.

"Hey boss, what about him?" The large build man asked, shoving his toe at McCoy again.

"He's dead ain't he? Take him out with the trash."

Kirk didn't even have the strength to struggle as two men grabbed his arms and hauled him in the direction of the bridge. He was vaguely aware of an angry Scot shouting and struggling to his left and Spock calmly telling someone that physical restraint would not be necessary but he couldn't wrench his eyes away from his best friend lying hopelessly on the cold, blood-stained floor.

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	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As he and his team were escorted to the brig, Jim felt like lead. He couldn't bring his feet up to take one step in front of the other, to do so would take energy that he didn't have, and so the two men who had taken hold of him had to drag him stumbling down the corridor. Their hands and his own dead weight tugged painfully at the phaser burn on his left bicep, but he didn't care enough to pick his feet up. In fact, he wanted it, he deserved the pain for getting them into this mess, deserved the devastation that had been wrecked upon his friend. It wasn't fair, Kirk had been prepared to go down with his ship, as every good captain should, as his father had done, but he hadn't been prepared for his crew to do it for him. And these people were more than just his 'crew', they were his closest friends, his only friends and they meant the whole universe to him.

They were all herded into the well-lit brig, which consisted of one large force-field-fronted room with staggered benches along the sides. Kirk hadn't been down to the room since they'd captured Khan. It had looked big when he'd been in it but now that the six of them were all huddled in together it was kind of cramped. They were ushered in and then left there as the pirates stepped back and activated the force field. As the hold they had on Sulu was released, he staggered, unable to put any weight on his injured leg. Spock and Uhura rushed to his side as he wobbled and managed to stop him from falling. Safe in the arms of his crewmates he looked up and locked eyes with Kirk, his face was pale and drawn but he had a grim determination that Kirk found hard to look at.

Spock and Uhura slipped their arms around his waist and with him gripping their shoulders they eased him to the ground at the back of the room, his head lolled back against the cold steel, legs splayed out in front of him. He'd left a blood trail across the floor but no one but Kirk seemed to notice.

"You're gonna be okay." Uhura was saying to him softly, "We'll get you fixed up." She tore at the leg of his pants a little to expose the thigh would so they could see it. Kirk didn't want to look at it, he knew it had to be deep, had seen how much blood his helmsman had lost. Sulu gasped in barely restrained pain as Uhura put pressure on the wound. Spock ripped off his uniform shirt, leaving him in his thin black undershirt as he ripped the sleeves off and tore them into bandages. Together, the science officer and the communications officer bound the strips of uniform tightly round their friend's thigh until their makeshift bandage was sufficient enough to slow the bleeding. He still looked a little groggy so Uhura sat beside him and pulled him in close so that his head rested on her shoulder. If Spock was jealous he didn't say anything, Kirk wasn't sure whether it would even occur to Spock to be jealous or if that was even something that Vulcans could comprehend.

Scotty had entered the brig ranting, his accent getting thicker with each threat he spat at their captors but when the force field came up and they were left alone he ran his hands over his face and began to pace. He did two laps of the cell before realising that Chekov hadn't moved, the younger man was stood stock still, staring straight ahead at nothing, his face still splattered with McCoy's blood. "It's okay laddie." Scotty soothed, pulling him into an uncharacteristic hug and wrapping his arms around the Russian tightly. Chekov leaned into the hug and then his knees seemed to give and the pair of them sank to the floor where they stayed, Chekov whimpering inaudible things into Scotty's shoulder and Scotty running a hand through the young ensign's hair.

Kirk just stared at his crew in awe, wondering how he got to be so lucky to work with these people. To have found a group who were all so different, and yet were brave and compassionate, as close to each other as any family that Kirk could imagine. He was privileged to be a part of this, he realised and with the next thought he realised that he didn't deserve to be. It had been his job to protect them and he had failed. He should have made them all evacuate, what was he thinking, taking on ruthless thugs like he had, and for what? To save his captaincy? Because the thought of having to tell Starfleet he'd lost his ship filled him with embarrassment? Because his father had gone down with his ship and so to do anything less was, what, cowardly? How could he have put his own ambitions and insecurities above these people? He wanted to crumble to the ground and beg for forgiveness, but he couldn't because the person who he needed it from most was no longer there to give it. He wanted to be angry with Bones for being the self-sacrificing idiot that he always accused the captain of being, but how could he? His young navigator was alive and physically unharmed because Bones had chosen to put others before himself, again.

Spock stood from where he was knelt beside Sulu and approached Kirk. "Captain, you are injured. Sit." He said calmly but firmly, indicating the bench seat nearest to them. For once, Kirk did as he was told with no argument. Spock sat beside him and began to inspect the phaser burn on his arm.

"It appears superficial." He noted, having inspected it thoroughly, "however, your nose appears to be broken. You would do well to let me set it."

Kirk just shrugged.

"I have been informed that your looks are pleasing to females, do you not wish to keep them?"

Kirk looked up at Spock and realised that the Vulcan was attempting a joke, but he couldn't bring himself to laugh, he settled for a half-hearted smile instead and a nod.

Spock took hold of Kirk's nose gently but firmly and then asked, "Captain, what is your favourite colour?"

Kirk gave him a quizzical look but before he could query it Spock gave a sharp tug and pulled Kirk's nose into alignment. "Oww." Kirk gasped and brought his hands up to his nose, the pain of it causing his eyes to water. "My favourite colour?" He asked.

"Doctor McCoy was of the belief that the pain is less if you distract the patient."

"Well I'm not sure he's right." Kirk said glumly.

"That was my conclusion also."

They fell into an awkward silence at the mention of the doctor.

"It is how he would have wanted it." Spock said after a moment.

"What?" Kirk said, in disbelief. It was not often that the Vulcan was so attuned to human thoughts and emotions.

"Doctor McCoy was never comfortable with harming another being, but saving a life, especially one of the crew, that would be what he would have wanted for his last act."

Kirk barked out a harsh laugh and furiously wiped a stray tear from his eye. "You getting all sentimental on me Spock?"

Spock just gave him a look, his usual inscrutable expression. "I grieve with thee Captain."

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McCoy wasn't sure how much time had passed before further pain brought him to his senses. Pain flared in his back and radiated all through his body, taking his breath away but jolting him back out of unconsciousness. It took him a moment to get his thoughts together enough to realise what was happening, although something in his subconscious told him he would do well to be quiet about it. He opened his eyes to harsh lighting and the floor whirling back and forth in front of his vision. It was enough of an assault on the senses to make him want to throw up, but he fought the feeling back down and tried to make sense of it. He was on someone's back, he realised, slung over some giant's shoulder and carried down the corridor. The man's shoulder dug painfully into his stomach, his upper body draped down the pirate's back, arms swinging limply towards the floor.

He had no idea where he was being taken but he doubted it was anywhere good. He couldn't see much beyond the swinging floor and this man's rather muscled backside but listening a moment told him that there did not appear to be anyone else there. His gaze drifted to his captor's hip and noticed the large serrated blade that was attached to his right hip. It was a nasty barbed thing, designed to cause maximum damage going in and on its way back out, McCoy recognised it immediately as being a Klingon design. McCoy took a deep breath as his shaking fingers reached for the blade. He felt for sure that the pirate would notice the move but something must have been distracting him and the doctor was able to steady his hand long enough to slip the knife from its sheath without being seen.

Stealing the blade had been the easy bit, the next went against everything he believed in. He tried not to think about it as he moved the blade into his right hand. He knew from his old xenobiology classes exactly where he needed to strike and brought the knife up to hover in the exact place to drive the blade through the Klingon's ribs and into his heart. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. His palms began to sweat and he tightened his grip on the blade but still couldn't. But then they stopped. McCoy left his heart skip a beat, tried to work out where they were but suddenly he was shoved off the Klingon's shoulder and he was falling. He landed hard on his back and the pain exploded. He heard a scream but didn't register at first that it was coming from himself. The Klingon, realising he wasn't as dead as he thought, snarled and went to grab for his knife but came up empty. Despite the pain that McCoy was in he had held onto the blade and now held it out in front of him, keeping the Klingon at arms length.

The Klingon chuckled at him, "You are tougher than you look human. But I can see the fear in your eyes. Let me put you out of your misery." He reached forward and his fist closed round McCoy's on the handle of the blade, straddling the doctor and forcing it down. Despite the way it pulled on the wound on his back, McCoy put both hands on the knife and wrestled for control of the blade. The Klingon was stronger, would have been stronger even without McCoy's wound, but Klingons always had overestimated human strength. As they fought for the blade it edged closer to McCoy's neck, pinned to the floor, he couldn't see a way out. He drew a leg up and kicked sharply out, catching the Klingon between his legs. The dirty trick worked on most humanoids and it appeared Klingons were no exception. He recovered quickly but not quick enough. McCoy used the distraction to twist to the side, out of the way of the blade, and let go. The sudden movement caused the Klingon to fall down hard towards the ground. The double edged-blade was so sharp it dug straight into the floor. McCoy grabbed the Klingon's head with both hands and with a strength he didn't know he possessed, he drove the Klingon's head down onto the blade. The knife tore into the male's skull, the pressure on all its sharp serrations cracked through tough bone and soft eye tissue. The Klingon let out a roar. McCoy wasn't done, smashing the Klingon's head into the blade over and over until he was still and the doctor was covered in blood and brain matter.

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Thanks for all the support so far, as always, reviews make my day.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

McCoy gasped for breath and released the bloody mess that was still gripped in his nerve-wrecked hands. The pain in his back was overwhelming and black spots danced in front of his vision as he fought back the unconsciousness that was creeping up on him. He couldn't give up now, their fight had been noisy and there would be other pirates coming to see what had happened. The Klingon had fallen across him when he'd died, he was heavy with muscle but McCoy shoved and kicked him aside and scrambled out until he hit against the wall. He leaned against it and took a moment to control his laboured breathing. He looked around, no one had come running yet. The corridor was much like many of The Enterprise's corridors but he looked ahead and saw what he'd been brought to, an industrial garbage chute. He recognised it as the incinerator for medical waste. He gulped down the horror at the thought of nearly going up in flames.

But it was ideal, in a way, because the pirate had brought him almost to where he needed to be. Which was good because he doubted he would have had the strength to go far. Steeling himself he got to his knees and crawled towards the body. Using his left arm pulled on the wound on his back so he held it to his side and used his right to get back to the Klingon. He'd seen his fair share of horrific injuries and blood and trauma rarely got to him, but knowing that he had caused it was another feeling altogether. He retrieved the knife, wiping the bloody blade on the thigh of his uniform pants before tucking it into his belt. The Klingon had a disruptor rifle too, which McCoy grabbed slinging the strap of it over his head and shoulder. He wiped his face on his sleeve and then struggled to his feet.

He concentrated on his breathing to control the pain as he staggered down the hallway. He coughed wetly and spat blood onto the floor. He tried hard not to think about it too much, knowing that he didn't have too long, he was unsure how long he'd been unconscious but his lung must have been steadily filling with blood since his wounding and he would be sucking more in with every breath. He couldn't see the damage to his back but he knew it must be bad.

He got to the door that he'd been looking for. The doors slid open automatically and he breathed a sigh of relief as his Med Bay was revealed, seemingly untouched by the invaders. He got in and as the door shut behind him he went to the control panel at the side of the wall. Wiring wasn't his expertise by any stretch but he pulled a few connections apart and when the door didn't open upon approach he hoped that the same would work for the outside. He doubted it would keep him safe forever, but it may delay them a while. He stumbled towards the nearest cabinet, wrenching the doors open and finding what he was looking for. He mentally thanked his nursing team for being so efficient, had the tidiness of the Med Bay been left up to him he would likely have to spend an hour hunting through the chaos to find each thing he needed. He grabbed the nearest tricorder, the internal regenerator and a myriad of other supplies and dragged the pieces of equipment over to the nearest bio-bed.

He sat on the bed and struggled to peel his uniform shirt and black undershirt off. The process was difficult and agonising and it brought tears of pain and frustration to his eyes, the material was stuck to his burned skin and he could barely move his left arm without causing so much pain it threatened unconsciousness. Eventually he was sat, bare chested and gasping, his destroyed clothing discarded on the floor. He fumbled for the tricorder and turned it on, moving awkwardly to scan over his back. As he waited for the scan to complete he hastily set up an IV of saline and a bag of A+ blood to counter the fluids that he would have been lost due to the burnt tissue, tapping the needle into the vein in his forearm. He realised he could see his reflection in a glass cabinet. He twisted slightly to use it to see. It wasn't the best method. A mirror would be better, but the nearest one was in the bathroom and he wasn't sure he had the energy to walk over there and back again. Still, he could see well enough to see that there were two deep blackened holes, the first just to the left of his spine, just above his diaphragm, the second, the exit wound, off to his left side. It he twisted awkwardly he could see it, blackened and burned, skin cauterised by the phaser burn. He was lucky he supposed, that he'd twisted away from the blast, had it gone straight through him, it was unlikely that he would've survived this far. Still, his lung had been compromised and would need repair, there would be damage to ribs, muscle and skin.

The tricorder came back with the results he was expecting. His left lung had collapsed and was 60% full of blood. Three ribs had been destroyed by the phaser blast and two others on his right side had been cracked by that vicious kick he'd received. The phaser burns covered eight percent of his body, and were 3rd degree. He had lost almost two pints of blood, it would have been worse had the heat of the phaser not cauterised the wound, his oxygen levels were dangerously low and his heartbeat was too shallow and fast as his body struggled to pump what oxygen it could around his body.

The diagnosis was enough to induce a panic but he blocked it off, put those thoughts away and tried to concentrate on what he needed to do. The damage to the lung was, of course, the most pressing, he thanked whichever deity was listening for modern medicine as he set up the internal regenerator and adjusted it to his specifications. The damage was substantial enough that had he the time and a team to do it for him, he would have used his DNA to grow a new lung and transplant it, the regenerator was good but would leave scar tissue that would cause problems in the long term, but it would do for now. What it would not do would be clear the blood from his lung and for that, considering current circumstances, he would be best to use an old-school method. His shaking hands grabbed a scalpel and medium bore plastic tube. Thinking about it would make it harder so without allowing time to second guess himself he raised his left arm out of the way, found his fifth intercostal muscle with his fingertips and sliced deep into his chest with the scalpel, frothy pink blood welled up, slicking his fingers, he flicked it off and grabbed the drain and forced it into the hole he had made. Blood frothed through the tube, dripping out of his side and running down his chest. The agony of inserting the chest drain was tamped by the instant relief it gave his breathing, the valve on the drain allowing the blood to come out of his lung. He lay down on his side and started the internal generator, he'd normally do this under sedation, the machine caused a great deal of pain and itching as the dead cells were stimulated back to life. He's shaky hands gripped a hypo of painkiller instead and shot it into his arm, closing his eyes and breathing through the pain as he allowed the machine to work.

* * *

Kirk and his crew had fallen into an almost suffocating silence. Kirk had first tried getting the attention of their captors, shouting and banging on the walls, demanding to know what was happening, demanding first aid supplies, food and any other amenity he could think of. No one had come though and in the end he'd fallen quiet and gone to sit back down. Sulu had fallen into a deep sleep against Uhura's shoulder and Spock was sat beside him in a light meditation. The others had settled down too, all wrapped up in their thoughts, Chekov still hadn't said a word and just kept staring straight forward with that haunted look in his eyes. Kirk knew his friend Bones would have known just what to say, despite his irascibility he was always able to soothe the captain's own disturbing thoughts and help him see more clearly. It was just one of the many things about him that he'd struggle to live without. Scotty may not have the same way with words as the doctor but at least he was trying, he'd moved the pair of them so that they were sitting with their backs against the wall but the Scot still had his arm slung around the younger crewmate's shoulders. Kirk was glad his team were so good at looking after each other, because all he'd done lately had let them down.

It was hours after they'd first been left there before anyone came back. When they did, they were greeted by the pirate captain and two of his crew, a huge tattooed human male and a short but stocky humanoid, bristling with a thin layer of dark brown hair. Kirk had never seen anyone of that species before. The hairy humanoid grinned at Kirk, displaying a row of razor-sharp teeth. It had the desired effect but Kirk stood to meet their captors, refusing to be deterred. Beside him he was aware of Spock becoming alert, staying still to see what developments were about to occur before making any further moves.

"Kirk." The pirate captain summoned with a chuckle. "Come with me." The three pirates drew phasers. The captain pointed his at Kirk. The other two targeted Spock and Uhura.

"Where am I going?" Kirk approached the force field cautiously. Spock had slowly risen to his feet but Kirk motioned for him to stay where he was.

"The people who are going to pay me for you require proof of life, now come."

Kirk nodded. He doubted that Starfleet would care much for Kirk or the rest of his captured crew, they had a policy of not bargaining with terrorists or pirates, and he'd certainly ruffled a few feathers over the years which had not exactly endeared him to some of the Admiralty. They were more likely to come after the Enterprise itself, which could give them the help they required. At the very least he hoped they'd be able to arrange rescue for the rest of his crew that had evacuated. "I'll come with you on one condition, my crew need medical aid, food and water. Get them those things and I'll do what you want."

"You're not in a position to make demands, but if you come without making a fuss then I'll see what I can do."

They kept their phasers held up as they released the force-field. Kirk strode forward and the pirate captain clapped a hand down on his shoulder, gripping him tightly, meaty fingers digging into his collarbone. Kirk shrugged him off and gave him a glare, he was going to go with him but he wasn't going to allow himself to be bullied. The force-field slid back into place as he passed through and he allowed himself to be lead out of the room. He didn't look back to his crew, not wanting to see the disappointment on their faces.

They started down the corridor and within a few twists and turns Kirk knew they were going back to the bridge. Kirk followed along dutifully, wondering who he'd end up speaking to from Starfleet.

"You know Starfleet policy is not to engage with hijackers and terrorists." Kirk said. "And I've upset more than a few of the Admiralty. Let us take the last shuttle and you can have the Enterprise." He offered. "It's what I should have done in the first place."

The pirate looked at him quizzically, raising his scarred eyebrow. "You're right about Starfleet. They're a heartless bunch, why else do you think I left? But lucky for me it's not Starfleet I'm selling you to, and lucky for you, the piece is higher if you're all in one piece."

Kirk schooled his facial expression at this new information. He'd had no idea there had been a price on his head but he supposed it shouldn't surprise him. He racked his brains to try and work out who it would be, but realised the list of enemies he'd made over the years was too long. "Who?"

"You'll see soon enough." The pirate promised.

"What's your name?" He asked instead.

"What does it matter to you?" he growled.

"Well I can't keep calling you That-Asshole-That-Stole-My-Ship forever, it's a bit of a mouthful."

The man barked out a harsh laugh but didn't give anything further.

Kirk was going to say something else but then they reached the bridge. He noticed the drips of blood that had been dripped down the corridor and the pool of it just inside the door. There was a lot of it, no wonder Sulu had looked so pale. He'd need better medical care and soon and it strengthened Kirk's resolve to get it. Despite making a conscious effort to put the thought out of his head, he found his eyes drawn to the other bloodstain on the bridge floor. It felt wrong somehow that there wasn't much of it, how could such a small amount of blood loss be so devastating? How could he explain this to Leonard's mother, what about Joanna? McCoy had always worried about his daughter growing up without her father around, now she really would have to. She would be devastated.

He knew he couldn't think about that now, he had to compose himself. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself, but then they were interrupted by a shout.

"Rydan!" An Orion woman dressed in a form-fitting jumpsuit appeared at the door, she sounded angry.

"What is it?" The pirate captain asked harshly.

"It's Krov." She said, "You'd better come see."

"What has that bastard done now?"

"He's dead. Someone's fucked him up good."

"What? Where? Get me a visual."

The Orion woman seemed to know her way around computers, less than a minute at a terminal and she was able to project the security footage in front of them. The camera was a wide angle view of a corridor. Laying on the floor was a large humanoid, flat on his front in a pool of blood. He was facing the camera but there was so much blood that at first it was hard to see. It took Kirk a moment of scrutiny to realise the male had been a Klingon, there was so much damage done to his forehead. Two dead eyes stared out at them through the carnage and thick congealing blood. Kirk marvelled at the strength it would take to cause that kind of damage to a Klingon. Whoever had done it had left a blood trail, Kirk's followed the smeared trail, it came towards the camera, a clear human handprint on the floor as though they'd been crawling away and another more smeared one where they had used the wall to pull themselves to their feet. The trail then moved out of the view of the camera.

"Have you followed the trail?" Rydan growled.

"Yeah Boss." The Orion woman answered with an air of condescension, "It goes to the Med Bay. I've tried getting in but the door is jammed. I've got some guys working on it now."

"Good, replay the security feed. And get him out of here!" Rydan growled to his two assistants. The pair of them grabbed Kirk by the arms and hauled him away. Kirk resisted, staring over his shoulder at the screen as they marched him out of the room, determined to see as much of the footage as possible. The Orion woman clicked a few buttons and had the footage reversing at high speed. Just before he was yanked out of the room Kirk caught a glimpse of the perpetrator, his familiar face set in grim determination as he staggered away from the crime.

* * *

Authors Note: With all my stories I've been trying to get them to fit into both AOS and TOS worlds so as a result I've found myself using medical equipment I'm not all that familiar with. I've tried to use a combination of my admittedly limited knowledge of TOS, along with my own 21st century first aid knowledge. As with other technology that will be coming up I've tried to stay as close to the originals as possible while at the same time keeping it in line which what I believe would be reasonable technological/medical advancements. For example, biometric scanners to open doors etc. I hope this is okay, but if there is anything which doesn't fit then constructive criticism is appreciated. Also, not a medical professional, I've tried my best. Thanks.

As usual reviews are motivation!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"He's alive!" Kirk whispered as soon as the pirates left them alone again, having locked Kirk back in the brig. He was practically bouncing with excited energy borne of sheer overwhelming relief.

"Captain?" Spock questioned. He appeared to be searching the human for any signs that something had been done to him, traumatic brain injury perhaps.

"Bones. I've seen him, on the security footage. He killed a Klingon!"

"Youse got tae be joking!" Scotty gasped.

Spock really did appear to be considering brain injury now. "Captain, the damage done to McCoy indicated…"

"Really?" Chekov's voice was small but it stopped the rest of them in their tracks. That one word was so full of hope and yet disbelief at the same time.

Kirk nodded.

The young Ensign who until now had been frozen with anguish let out a sigh that was more like a sob and collapsed back against the wall he was sat at. "Impossible." He muttered, "Moj Boze."

"It does seem improbable," Spock agreed with the Russian, "but there are instances where the release of adrenaline to the human body can cause almost super human strength in times of dire need. However we must not forget that Doctor McCoy has been gravely wounded…"

"Which is why we need to get out of here to help him." Kirk interrupted. "We need to come up with a plan."

* * *

McCoy was drifting in and out of a pain-interrupted sleep when a heavy thud on the door jolted him awake. The noise had his heart pounding as he froze, listening. Then there was another thud and he knew it hadn't just been a part of his nightmares. He switched off the regenerator, released himself from the IV and struggled to sit upright. The blood rushed to his head as he eased his battered body off the bed, the internal regenerator had nearly completed a cycle and that would have to do. The treatment would continue to work although it would need numerous more cycles before the repair could be completed. He ignored the pain as he moved around, securing the knife back into his belt, slinging the rifle strap over his shoulder and rummaging through the drawers for supplies.

The banging stopped for a moment, but just as he'd dared to hope they'd given up, it started up again with greater frequency. He had no idea how long the door would hold, presumably they'd have someone on their crew that was a better engineer than he so it was unlikely to be long. He grabbed as many bandages as he could carry and selected a handful of hyposprays and the handheld dermal generator machine and made a dash to his office.

His office was lockable from the inside, not a feature he often used while he was in it due to feeling the need to be approachable and also because of his tendency to use it to sleep in when as often happened, his shift pattern got thrown out of the window and he was needed at a moment's notice. Once locked though, only he could open it with fingerprint and retinal scans. He doubted that it would cause an engineer much trouble but at least it was one move level of security they'd have to get through.

He had a satchel hanging on the back of the door which he used for away missions where he didn't wish to carry a full med kit. He grabbed it and stuffed the dermal generator and most of the bandages and hyposprays into it, ducking behind his desk away from the door. He then used the last bandage, a specialist gel bandage that he had set aside and hastily wrapped it round his chest, over his open wounds and protecting his damaged ribs. The material was coated in a thick gel which soothed the burns, restored some of the much needed fluids to the skin and cooled the wound so that it prevented the skin from further cooking even after the damage had been done. Listening carefully to the banging coming from outside the Med Bay he adjusted himself so that he was crouched, ready to move as soon as he could. It was going to be a struggle, his vision kept fading and the pain was enough to take his breath away.

He'd hoped not to need to medicate himself until he had to, but he knew that he wouldn't get through these next few minutes unless he did. He grabbed a hypospray and injected its contents into his arm. He felt the rush as the epinephrine/opiate compound coursed through his veins, making his heart thump loudly. The drug pushed the pain and fatigue aside and he suddenly felt more alert. He would be walking a fine line with this, he knew. The synthetic adrenaline would keep him going and give him the strength to push his wounded body further than would otherwise be possible, but it would come at a price, it would put great strain on his heart and he'd be at risk of causing himself further damage.

There was a shout and then they were through. McCoy could hear them in the Med Bay now, could hear them shouting to each other, "Fuck! Where is he?", "Look at all this blood, he's gotta be in bad shape." "Yeah? We thought he was dead and then he killed a fucking Klingon!" He could hear two voices, a deep female voice was the one doing all the swearing and a gruff male, but he could hear others moving round too. If he had to guess he'd assume there were three of them, but it was hard to tell.

He could then hear them approach the office door. Someone was trying to force it open. McCoy steadied himself, making sure he was tucked behind the desk. There was a holo of him and his daughter on it that caught his eye momentarily, the pair of them grinning wildly as he wrapped her in his arms. Seeing Joanna strengthened his resolve, he had to do this to get back to her.

And then the door slid open. McCoy fired his disruptor rifle before the pirates even had a chance to see inside. He squeezed off rapid shots in the direction of the doorway. There was a yell from two different people and a man crashed through the now open doorway. McCoy ignored him and kept firing, refusing to let up the barrage, so that they didn't have a chance to enter the room. They started firing back but the shots went wide, one hit the holo of Joanna and pieces of it peppered his face as it blew apart, another of them sank to the ground.

The last one, the green skinned female ducked out of the way, behind the wall. He could hear her breathing deeply. Unable to get a clear shot he stopped firing, there would be no point in wasting valuable energy.

"I'm gonna kill you, you bastard!" She snarled. He then heard a click of a comm, "Sheen and Kit are down! Get your asses to the Med Bay!" She ordered.

That was it. McCoy knew he couldn't wait any longer unless he wanted the rest of the pirate crew to come down and finish him off. He slung the satchel strap over his head and shoulder and stood up, firing. He kept the rifle fire quick and consistent, feeling like a holovid hero as he strode towards the door. The woman fired back but couldn't aim without exposing her position. She held her phaser round the corner of the doorway so McCoy shot it. The phaser fell to the floor and she pulled her burned hand back and gasped. McCoy saw his chance and took it, he leapt forward and fired his next shot as she reached down for her back up weapon. The blast hit her point blank in the face and she collapsed backwards on the Med Bay floor. McCoy knew he wouldn't be able to think about what he'd just done, he also didn't have the time, he ran.

He ran out into the hallway beyond the doorway, having given a quick glance out of the door to check the coast was clear. Thankful for the epinephrine that was allowing him the energy, he found himself still stumbling over his feet as he hurried. He knew where he needed to go and it wasn't far. He ignored the body of the Klingon he'd killed who still lay across the floor in a battered mess, trying to avoid stepping in the pool of blood so as not to slip or track a blood trail up the hallway.

Someone came out of a doorway and he raised his rifle and fired catching the pirate by surprise and taking him down before he could even blink. McCoy reached down and searched the man for his weapons, wishing he'd thought about that with the three he'd left in the Med Bay. He came up with two phasers and an old Terran style jungle machete. He stuffed them into his satchel and carried on.

As he approached a junction he could hear voices coming towards him and footsteps at a jogging pace. He looked around frantically and his eyes set upon a service panel in the wall. He prised it off and exposed an air duct. He wasn't a huge fan of tight spaces but he scrambled inside and pulled the panel back into place just in time. He listened to the conversation as the intruders approached, it was in a language he didn't recognise but it sounded angry. He watched through the grate as a pair of booted feet ran passed, no doubt on their way to the Med Bay. Once they realised he was on the loose, things would become much harder. As if it hadn't been hard enough already.

McCoy lay in the dark, bandaged chest heaving as he tried to get his breathing under control. He was convinced they'd be able to hear his laboured breath through the vent. His fingers ghosted over the chest drain that he still had sticking out of his side. Thankfully it hadn't moved, despite the fact he'd only hastily secured it with a bit of medical tape. As his fingers came away wet he concluded it was still emitted fluid but the output had slowed since he'd put the archaic medical device in. His fingers continued down to his ribs, they were still holding too, which was a miracle considering huge chunks of them had been blasted away. They bandaging he'd wrapped round his torso would only protect them so far, too much pressure on them and what was left of his lower three ribs would likely crunch inwards causing all sorts of further damage. He knew that considering the level of damage he was lucky to even be moving.

The painkillers he had taken were a combination of adrenaline and nerve-blockers and normally he was highly opposed to prescribing them. For a start, they were highly addictive, but the reason McCoy almost refused to work with them was that often they disrupted the pain to such a degree that those taking them would be unaware of the further damage they were doing to themselves. They'd been designed for the battlefield, to keep soldiers going when they had no other choice, they were always part of an 'away team' med kit and McCoy had used them in that scenario on only a handful of occasions. Unfortunately, whether he liked it or not, the Enterprise had become for all intents and purposes had become a battlefield. They were starting to wear off now though, the stabs of pain getting through the blocks that they had in place. It was time for a new dose but he tried his best to ignore it for now, he couldn't afford for it to run out.

He didn't have time to lay there feeling sorry for himself, he chided. Just like he couldn't dwell on what he'd done to get there. He held the disruptor rifle across his body in the way he'd been trained at the academy. Despite Starfleet being a naval organisation, the majority of the crew had only had the most basic of training in weapons handling, and that was usually focused on self-defence and the use of phasers on their stun setting. Only the militarised Starfleet divisions went on to do further weapons training, and even then, to kill was considered a last resort. Enterprise was considered an exploratory and diplomatic vessel and as such it was a generally held belief by those in the upper echelons of the Federation that heavy armament would be unnecessary and uncouth. More than once McCoy had made his opinion on the matter known, the Federation and Starfleet Admiralty were living in a naïve fantasy world, he'd been in plenty of firefights on away missions and to send unarmed and untrained people out into the universe was reckless. Still, despite some of the dangers he'd found himself in over the years he'd still never killed anyone and had convinced himself he never would, until now.

The pirates were gone, he waited a few minutes to make sure they wouldn't hear him. He was about to push the grate away when he heard more footsteps, heavy ones at a run. McCoy cursed under his breath at how close he'd come to being caught. Of course, the corridor was likely to be full of pirates in minutes, all answering the call for assistance to the Med Bay. Instead he glanced round the tight tunnel of the air conditioning duct and knew what he'd have to do. Laying on his right side to protect his more damaged ribs, he started to crawl. His chest protested, although better than the left, his right ribs had been cracked too, the pain was enough to make his head swim. He thought for a second that he'd pass out but he fought back that feeling and continued to crawl.

* * *

Authors Note: I'm afraid I butchered the Russian language just briefly. I've written 'Moj Boze' phonetically instead of in Cyrillic so those who can't read Russian know how it sounds. It means 'My God!'

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, I really appreciate you taking the time to do so, and to everyone who has favourited or put the story on your alert list. Don't forget that letting me know what you think will spur me to write faster. ;-)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

McCoy hadn't really considered how this would work until he started doing it. If he thought he was going to get all the way round the ship in the air ducts then he only thought it for a minute, crawling hurt, far too much and within a few metres he came across the first obstacle. It was dark, not much light filtered through the grates, and in his agony he wasn't paying too much attention until he flailed his arm out to drag himself forward again and his hand met thin air. He pulled himself forward a bit and found himself gazing down a shaft that was about a metre square and went straight down. McCoy couldn't see the bottom. He knew if he were to fall it would be three decks from his current position in G deck to the bottom of the dish part of the ship on I deck, but that was still an awful long way and had the potential to be deadly even without his diminished condition. There were no rungs, nothing to hold onto, just shiny sheet metal. Any hopes of using the ducts to get around unseen died. The alternative, he realised, were the Jefferies tubes which would give him access to the whole ship, unfortunately the only access point was back in Med Bay which was about to be swarming with bad guys. Besides, they'd been designed by a crazy man, McCoy groused, without the schematics or someone like Scotty who knew the ship better than he knew the back if his hand, then he could spend the rest of his life wandering lost in the labyrinth of tunnels.

He was about to abandon the tunnels when more shouting and footsteps could be heard just on the other side of the wall. He decided he didn't need to go very far, just far enough that he was unlikely to get caught. The tunnel continued on beyond the gap, if he could get a bit further on then he could leave these stupid dangerous tunnels, he told himself as he edged himself out over the void. He wiped his clammy hands on his uniform pants before pushing himself a bit further out until his chest was hanging out over the gap. He reached out a shaking hand across the void, grasped for the far ledge and missed, his trembling fingers touching the edge but slipping away. Huffing with the effort he edged his abused body out a little further. He spewed a litany of curses as summoned the strength to keep himself straight, using his abdominal muscles to keep himself from falling down the hole. This time he managed to get a firm grip and planted both palms firmly on the other side. He now had to shuffle forward in a press up position to get across. His arms trembled under the strain, it was something he found easy in the gym but with broken ribs and lung and skin damage, it pulled on everything that hurt. He took deep breaths and pushed the pain aside. He was almost there when the toe of his boot slipped.

His left foot skidded out behind him, he'd kept the well-worn boots because they'd been comfy but they had nearly no tread left. He barely had time to think 'oh shit!' before his foot disappeared, causing him to bash his shin on the edge of the hole. Unbalanced, his arms couldn't take the extra weight and they collapsed. His broken chest bashed into the floor of the tunnel and he was unable to hold back a cry of pain, feeling his other foot go from under him too. And then he realised he was slipping, sliding backwards into the hole. He tried to secure his hand but his palm slipped. As it shot out from under him he realised, too late, that his palm had slicked on blood that he'd been trailing all through the tunnel, he twisted as he flailed for a hold and then suddenly he was falling.

As he fell backwards his shoulders slammed into the wall of the tunnel, it forced all the air from him and he heard a crunch, feeling a flare of pain as one of his ribs gave. He threw out his shaking arms and slammed his hands onto the walls of either side of him. It slowed his decent but didn't stop him. He pulled up his legs and stuck his feet out, jamming them into the corners of the shaft. He continued to slide, but it slowed him and eventually he managed to put enough pressure through his hands, feet and back to wedge himself and come to a halt.

He cursed again. Everything hurt so much. He looked down and gulped, he'd fallen a long way but he still couldn't see the bottom. He must have fallen the length of a deck because he was suspended just above another cross-section. Had he fallen any further his footholds would have disappeared and he would have probably ended up falling all the way to the bottom. Tentatively he brought his feet down to the lip of the next horizontal tunnel so that he was straddling the hole. Thankful for being blessed with long legs, from there he managed to crouch down, grab the sides of one of the entrances and pulled himself back into the hole.

He scrambled away from the edge and then lay on his back panting. He fumbled in his bag for a hypo but he struggled to get a grip on anything. Frustrated with himself he had to concentrate to get his hand to hold steady enough to grasp the hypospray and inject it into his arm. He felt the effects instantly, clearing his head and easing the pain down to something almost negligible. It didn't take the shake out of his hands and his heart was pounding out of his chest, a side effect of too much adrenaline, but at least he'd have the strength to get moving again. He wasted no time, knowing that he wouldn't have long before it wore off. He scrambled to his hands and knees and crawled forward, reaching the next grate which lead out into one to the corridors on H deck. He watched through the grill for a moment to check there was no one there but the coast was clear so he drew himself up and kicked the panel out.

Whomever designed this ship must have foreseen this exact disaster, McCoy mused, why else would they have chosen to place Communications directly underneath the Med Bay? Still, it was the only damn thing to go right so far, he grumbled as he used the bio scanner to allow him access. Once inside he breathed a sigh of relief. Communications was restricted access only, they'd have to break the door down like they had in his office in order to get in. He'd never actually been in here before, it was just a row of computer terminals. He sat down at the nearest one and woke it up. He placed his thumb on the biometric scanner and the screen came to life. His fingers flew across the keys as he composed his message. 'Urgent SOS. USS Enterprise boarded by pirates. Command crew captured, rest of crew escaped in pods to nearest habitable planet. At least 7 fully armed pirate vessels. Enterprise shields and warp capabilities offline. Intentions towards command crew unknown, injuries sustained but full extent unknown. Lt Cmdr McCoy.' He attached their current co-ordinates and sent it out to whomever was reading Federation channels.

It would be ideal if he could get the coordinates for the planet that the rest of the crew was sent to, if nothing else, at least he could get them rescued, but computers weren't his forte. He tried looking back over the action logs for the bridge, he wasted precious moments trying to find the right folder in the senior officers shared data file but eventually he found the file marked with the current stardate. He grinned in triumph as he clicked it open but it didn't last long with what he found. The last entry was a communication two minutes and thirty-seven seconds long with another ship. Whatever the ship was it wasn't displaying a Federation code. At first he assumed that they had just been communicating with their own ships until he noticed that the communication had been long-range. It took him a few minutes to bring up a log of known ship codes and scanned through them. It wasn't there, but as he scrolled through rapidly something similar caught his eye. It wasn't quite right but the first few letters were the same. McCoy checked back again and confirmed what he should have suspected, the corresponding code related to a Romulan warbird.

He noted down the co-ordinates that the message had been picked up from before he clicked on the playback. The display came up with a split-screen, one side showing the pirate captain sat in Kirk's chair, laying back into it, one leg slung lazily over the arm. The other image was a cold looking ship with a grim looking Romulan female. Her head was shaven which accentuated her pointed ears and ridged forehead. She had a pretty face, McCoy mused, but severe looking, he wouldn't want to end up in her clutches. She was wearing all the regalia of a Romulan commander, dark uniform, garish sash across her chest.

"Commander L'Ren." The pirate sneered. McCoy leaned forward in his seat to study the screen, knowing their body language would tell him almost as much as their speech. The Romulan looked angry and impatient, no surprise there. The pirate was trying his best to look relaxed but there was something about the way his jaw was set and his eyes kept darting to something off the screen. He looked unnerved by something and McCoy realised with a smug sense of satisfaction it was perhaps himself that had managed to unnerve him.

"Rydan," the Romulan commander greeted with a raised eyebrow. "You've taken your time, but I see you have the Enterprise at last. Everything go according to plan I hope?"

"Of course." The pirate, Rydan oozed a kind of swagger.

"Then where is he?"

"He's in the brig."

"One starship captain was no trouble for you I assume? I want him brought here so I can see him. I need proof."

"A few of his most loyal crew stayed with him, but they were nothing we couldn't handle. If you want them too, I'll make you a good deal."

"How many?"

"The Vulcan, some hot chick, and three others."

"Are they harmed? You don't get the full amount if I can't use them."

"They're all in one piece. A few scrapes that's all. They're certainly in better shape with me than they will be with you." He grinned.

That elicited a sly smile from the Romulan too. "They'll be begging for your brig when I'm done with them. I need to see them before I negotiate a price for the others."

Rydan clicked his fingers at someone off-screen and then the view of the bridge was taken over with CCTV footage from the brig. The view was from a camera in corner of the ceiling and gave a view of the whole room. McCoy leaned forward intently. His eyes scanned the group, immediately seeking out Kirk. The captain was pacing back and forth, full of energy. McCoy caught a glimpse of the phaser burn on his arm but the way that he was waving his arm around animatedly as he walked and talked to the others showed that it wasn't really being affected by it. Spock was sat up straight in his thermal undershirt, taking in whatever their captain was saying, he looked fine. Sulu was slumped against Uhura at the back of the room. He appeared to be asleep on her shoulder. She sat beside him with her ankles crossed out in front of her, a comforting hand resting on his leg. It was hard with the dark uniform and the camera angle to see where he was injured, the best he could do was hope that the fact that he had no blood marring the yellow of his uniform meant that if had not been a wound to his torso. Scotty and Chekov were also sat together on the floor. Scotty, from his hand gestures appeared to be discussing something with the captain, but he kept his other arm slung across Chekov's shoulders. The youngest crew member looked haunted. He had blood on his face which someone seemed to have wiped off. McCoy looked for the injury before he realised that the blood was his own.

It was such a relief to see his crew mostly healthy. He wanted to watch further, he was sure that Kirk was scheming and he liked to think if he watched long enough he'd be able to work out what it was. But the screen switched back to Rydan in the bridge. He was grinning confidently now. The Romulan was still stony-faced but nodded her approval.

"Payment for the captain is what we agreed upon. I'll give you half that again for the rest of the crew."

"Now hold on a minute, I'm offerin' you five others, they're all officers, they'll all have intel. They're worth more than that!"

"I have Captain Kirk. I have no use for the others."

"Ah!" Rydan held his finger up to stop her. "You haven't met Kirk have you? He won't break easily. But his weakness is his crew. You'll need to use them to get to him."

The Romulan paused a moment, thinking it over. McCoy could tell from the irritation that ghosted across her face that she'd already thought of that, and her annoyance was likely to come from being made to haggle. "I'll give you the same for the others that I've giving you for Kirk. Any more and my superiors will consider your greed to not be worth our time."

Rydan grinned. "Done. We're on our way to the agreed rendezvous. I'll hail ya when we're almost there."

She nodded. "We'll be waiting." She clicked a button and the screen went blank. The recording had finished. McCoy began to type frantically again.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Spock sat calmly watching his captain pace back and forth. The despondency that he'd had before was all gone and he'd become his usual bundle of tense energy. Spock had been concerned about him before. He'd never seen his friend look so defeated. Now he was almost manic, this was much more like him, at least he was trying to come up with a plan. Spock deduced their plan had only 5.6% chance of success but it was also the only plan they had so he kept the statistics to himself. The plan relied on Kirk's acting ability and the assumption that the pirates cared enough about his wellbeing that they would disable the force field to assist if they thought he was dying. After that they were going to have to fight their way to engineering, have Scotty and Chekov repair the warp core while the rest of them fought of the remaining pirates and warp out of there at the highest warp factor that Scotty could coax out of the engines. Considering their ship was surrounded by other pirate vessels, all likely to be in communication and ready to come to the aid of their current captors then the plan bordered on the absurd. Kirk, Uhura and himself were all capable fighters but Sulu would be unable to join them and he doubted the three of them could take on… he calculated 7 pirate vessels, medium size, approximately ten crew members per vessel… seventy pirates? Upon second thought, his initial estimation of success may have been too high.

It was another example of the illogic of humans that Kirk wholeheartedly believed it would work. The captain wasn't stupid, he was a brilliant tactician and Spock knew that even though the human would not be able to calculate the odds with the accuracy of a Vulcan, he had to know their chances of success were slim. An hour ago, the captain had seen no way out, now it was as though he could see no way for his plan to fail. Realistically, nothing about their situation had changed in that time, except Kirk had seen video footage of their doctor limping away from a dead Klingon. Spock still found that difficult to believe. He had seen the damage done to McCoy, the chances of his survival of such a wound were almost non-existent, the chances of him still having enough strength to take down anyone let alone a Klingon in that state were even less. And besides, Spock knew the doctor well. About a year previously, he, the captain and the doctor had found themselves in the middle of a race war on Yelesea II, the doctor had been chased by a bloodthirsty Yelesean who believed in the extermination of all humans and had ended up being cut off from Kirk and Spock. When they'd found him, he was wrestling the Yelesean on a rooftop after a precarious foot-chase over the city. As they'd approached McCoy had won the upper hand. The logical thing for him to do would have been to throw the Yelesean off the edge of the building but he hadn't, he'd paused and then before they knew it they were watching McCoy fall instead. Kirk had shot the Yelesean dead and Spock had rushed to the doctor's aid. When he'd found him, both legs and a wrist broken from the impact with the street below, Spock had asked him why he'd not thrown the Yelesean off the roof first. McCoy had gazed up at him with a pain-filled expression and said, "I'm a healer Spock, I don't have it in me to kill."

"Spock?" Kirk turned to his second in command, breaking him out of his thoughts. "What do you think?" The captain was waiting for his reply with a self-assured grin on his face. A quick glance around the rest of the room told him that all the crew were waiting in earnest for his opinion on the plan. He was about to answer with his usual honesty when a voice in his head stopped him. The voice had a thick Southern accent and a tone of warning, _I've given them hope you idiot! Don't you dare screw this up now._ "Considering our current circumstances, I believe this plan gives us the best chance of success." He said instead. It wasn't a lie, like the plan it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

Suddenly the sound of a phaser being fired echoed in the corridor beyond the brig. It caused everyone in the brig to turn their heads. Scotty leapt to his feet and Kirk ran up to the forcefield, trying to see down the corridor. Spock stood, his usual carefully controlled self, and went to stand with Kirk.

"What's happening?" Chekov asked in a whisper.

"I can't see." Kirk answered, leaning so far forward that he was in danger of electrocuting his forehead with the forcefield.

There was a shout and a burst of phaser fire this time. There was the sound of returning fire that Spock identified as a disruptor rifle and another yelp of someone in pain. An Orion pirate appeared from the far end of the brig complex, running towards the commotion. He stopped, staring at something further down the hall that they couldn't see from their position, and opened fire, squeezing off shots as fast as his finger could work the trigger. A returning blast caught him in the middle of the chest and he went down, dead before he even hit the deck, a large hole smoking where his heart had been.

The deck sounded with booted feet running clumsily towards them, the Enterprise crew tensed with what was about to happen next, "Bones!" Kirk exclaimed as their rescuer came into view.

Spock almost couldn't believe his eyes. The doctor looked like a character from one of those action holovids that Chekov liked so much, he was shirtless, ribs wrapped in dirty bandages, blood staining his left side, usually neat hair unkempt and sticking up in all directions, brandishing a disruptor rifle like he was born to do so. He had a look of grim determination on his face that Spock could tell was being used to mask the pain he was in.

"Bones!" Kirk grinned, "I was sure you were dead."

"Guess you'll have to put up with me a while longer." McCoy responded back. His fingers flew over the keypad at the side of the forcefield and suddenly it was deactivated, releasing them. He reached into the satchel he had slung at his waist and produced a phaser which he handed to Kirk. As he did Spock noticed the dried blood staining the doctor's hands. Spock went to the back of the room to help Uhura as she tried to get Sulu to his feet.

"How is he?" McCoy asked, coming up alongside Spock as he slipped Sulu's arm across his shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Spock noticed the almost imperceptible shaking of McCoy's body and recognised the symptom for what it was. He wondered just how many stimulants the doctor had taken.

"Better than you." Sulu shot back with a pained laugh. "It's good to see you Doc."

"Likewise." The doctor smiled. "Come on," he addressed the group. "There's an escape shuttle left on A deck." He began to lead the group out of the brig.

"We're not abandoning the ship." Kirk said in a tone that brooked no argument. "We're going to engineering, Scotty can fix the power core and…"

But no one's tone had ever stopped McCoy from making his opinion heard. "No we're not. We are getting to that escape shuttle and we are getting our asses out of here. And we're going to do it before we get sold to be tortured by Romulan Secret Service. I've alerted the Federation, they know what's happening and where to find the crew, if they want the Enterprise back they can come and get it themselves but we are not going to wait around while they get their act together."

The two of them stared each other down. Kirk was his usual fierce self, jaw set in determination, his muscles tensed, fists clenched. Even though he had been so relieved to find the doctor alive he was still unable to control his anger at being challenged. Normally Spock would estimate Kirk to be the winner in their little showdown. McCoy often riled and raged at decisions their captain made but rarely did it stop him from doing what he wanted anyway. Spock had often watched the emotions blazing in the doctor's eyes during these arguments, but Spock looked for them now and found none. McCoy's eyes were cold and steely. He shouldn't have been able to stand and yet he was daring his captain to take him on with an intensity and strength that Spock had never seen in him before. And then another thing happened that Spock didn't quite believe, Kirk relented.

"Lead the way Doctor." The captain said.

McCoy gave him a curt nod and took off at a jog, disruptor rifle held up ready to fire. Someone rounded the corner up ahead of them. Kirk and McCoy raised their weapons but incredibly McCoy was a fraction faster, felling the man with a single shot. Spock felt Sulu's arm tighten round his shoulders and the pair exchanged a look. Spock had been getting better at reading emotion and nodded his agreement. "I too am worried about him Lieutenant." He said quiet enough that the others wouldn't hear.

The group made it into the elevator and crowded in, Kirk punching the button for Deck A.

"Romulan Secret Service?" The captain asked as the doors closed at the elevator took them up.

McCoy kept his right hand on the rifle while he rummaged in his satchel with his left, ignoring the looks he was receiving from the rest of the crew. "I saw footage of a communication between the pirate and a Romulan commander. We are being sold to her, she's intending to torture the crew to get to you Jim." He said as he pulled out a hypospray and injected it into his bicep, when he returned the empty device to his bag his hands were shaking slightly more although he hid it well. When the elevator came to a stop both hands were back on his weapon and he was ready.

As soon as the doors opened they were met with more phaser-fire coming from round the door to the bridge.

"Escape shuttle Alpha-three." McCoy ordered. "Run, I'll cover you." He peered round the edge of the elevator door and send a burst of rapid fire down the corridor.

"Doctor," Spock implored, "let me take the disruptor rifle."

"No Spock," McCoy caught his eye for a second before returning his concentration to the firefight. "I need you to look after them."

Spock was about to protest when Scotty appeared beside them. He slung Sulu's other arm over his shoulders so that the injured man was supported between them. He didn't say anything to McCoy but placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a quick comforting squeeze. "Come on Spock." He said and turned them away.

Kirk and McCoy stood their ground, firing a barrage at their attackers so that they were unable to leave the safety of their cover long enough to fire back. The others took off for the shuttle at a run. Uhura got their first and opened the airlock doors allowing access to the small shuttle. She and Chekov raced straight in, by the time Spock and Scotty arrived with Sulu only seconds later, Chekov had taken the pilot's chair and was firing the shuttle up and Uhura had torn the under-seating supplies to pieces. She found what she'd been looking for and drew out two phasers handing one to Spock.

Spock released Sulu into Scotty's care and took up the weapon. Together they went back to the airlock and started firing.

"We've got you covered!" Uhura shouted out into the corridor over the phaser-fire and the pair of them took up firing at the bridge doorway.

It took all his self-control to set aside the fear that was threatening to creep into his subconscious as he watched his friends make their mad dash to the shuttle. They both took off at a sprint down the corridor towards them. Kirk in the lead but McCoy not far behind. They tried to keep to the left of the corridor but it wasn't easy for Spock and Uhura to get a clean shot of the bridge doorway without putting the two Starfleet officers in the line of fire. The pirates had emboldened too and they managed to fire off a few shots of their own although they went wide in their frantic attempts not to get killed themselves. The pair were almost at the shuttle when McCoy stumbled and collapsed to his knees with a breathless curse.

Kirk's head whipped round in panic, saw his friend on the floor struggling to rise and he went back for him. Kirk grabbed the older man by his arm and hauled him to his feet. McCoy appeared to be a dead weight hanging on his friends arms, for just a second, too tired to go any further but once he got his feet back under him he seemed to find an extra reserve of strength and together they completed the run.

Kirk shoved McCoy through the shuttle door and barrelled in after him. Uhura slammed her hand on the door control panel and it closed. "Pavel! Go!" she shouted at the young Russian.

"Aye." He responded and there was a shudder as the shuttle disconnected from the docking port and drifted away from the ship. A moment later and they were racing through space as fast as the shuttle would go.

"Everyone okay?" Kirk asked, glancing around at his crew.

McCoy gave him a wan smile but then all the colour drained from his face and he collapsed.

* * *

Sorry guys, just can't help myself with these cliffhangers! Please keep the reviews coming, I love hearing what you all think of it and really appreciate the time you take to let me know.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The shuttle was only designed for four so Sulu had been sat on the floor with his back to the service panel so he could stretch out his leg. Scotty had gone up to the front to help Chekov and to get out of the way of the others, the little spacecraft was about to get crowded. All Sulu could do was sit helplessly as Kirk and McCoy made their mad dash to freedom. He watched in horror as McCoy fell, fighting the urge to go and help, even though he knew that he'd barely make it to his own feet.

Since the moment that pirate's knife had been sunk into his leg, everything had been a hazy pain-filled blur. The knife had been serrated and he'd felt the vicious twist his attacker had put into yanking it back out again, shredding muscle. After that, it was as though his whole awareness was concentrated around the agony. He didn't remember ending up on the floor, just the feeling of hot blood gushing over his fingers as he clamped his hands over the wound. He'd watched McCoy get gunned down with a numb detachment, sure in that moment that they were all going to die and hoping that the doctor's death had been quicker and less painful than his own would be.

It had been a momentary lapse into despair, one that he'd shaken himself out of while being dragged to the brig. By the time he allowed Spock and Uhura to ease him to the floor, his anger at being manhandled by thugs had banished those thoughts and although he was in no position to fight back personally, he was convinced his captain and his crew would find a way. It had been a shock to look into the eyes of his indomitable captain only to see defeat reflected back.

But everything had changed since then, the doctor had appeared like some kind of haggard and bloodied miracle and had spurred everyone to action. Sulu hadn't dared to dwell on anything other than the grim determination it took to put one foot in front of the other as he struggled to keep up. There had been overwhelming relief as he made it into the shuttle and was settled onto the floor with the help of Scotty, followed by dismay as he watched Kirk's desperate attempts to get his best friend, and their saviour to his feet.

Sulu was unsure how McCoy had found the strength to get back up, let alone finish the run to the shuttle. By the time he got there, the doctor's face was pale and clammy and he was sucking in big wheezing breaths with his battered chest. He looked years older than he had that morning when Sulu had crossed paths with him in the officer's mess, when they'd shared a quick cup of coffee before their shift. That had felt like so long ago now, Sulu could barely believe that it had ever happened at all. As the captain and doctor crossed the threshold into the shuttle and Uhura closed the door behind them, he took a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding.

He knew McCoy was going to collapse even before he himself did. He saw the last bit of colour drain from his face, the involuntary trembling of his legs and then the moment his knees gave out. Luckily, Kirk had been watching for it too and leapt forward, wrapping his arms low down around McCoy's waist to avoid the bandaged wounds above. McCoy mumbled something unintelligible into the captain's neck as he allowed him to take his weight and lower him to the floor. Awkwardly, Kirk eased McCoy onto the floor of the shuttle on the opposite side to Sulu. The space was so small that the taller man's feet almost touched the far side. Kirk sat crouched beside him, keeping his hands resting protectively on the doctor's shoulders. Spock retrieved a first aid pack and knelt on his other side.

Sulu's attention was diverted by Uhura who knelt beside him with a first aid kit of her own. She gave him a warm smile as she unzipped it and primed a hypo. Sulu loosened his uniform and bared his shoulder for her to inject the hypospray into, relaxing a little as the fast-acting pain-reliever flooded his system. He rested his head back against the shuttle wall and took a moment to appreciate the steady vibrations of the shuttle moving through space.

"Thank you." He whispered to Uhura as she started to redress his thigh with proper bandages.

"Always." She promised.

No more needed to be said as she worked carefully, Sulu's attention drifted back to what was happening on the other side of the shuttle.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." McCoy was mumbling, placing a shaky hand on Kirk's shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze.

"Like hell you are Bones," Kirk was speaking in hushed tones. "Let us help you."

Spock's tone too was hushed. "Captain, help him forward, I need to see his wound."

Kirk leaned McCoy forward so his back was away from the wall, his head resting on the captain's shoulder, supported in his arms. Whatever was said next was mumbled into Kirk's uniform and Sulu couldn't hear it, but it caused Kirk to give him a gentle "Shh" and to run his hand through the older man's hair.

"What's that?" Kirk indicated as Spock began to unravel soiled bandages.

"I believe it is a chest drain Captain." The Vulcan explained with a hint of something in his voice that wasn't his usual stoic self. "It appears the doctor was bleeding into his chest and performed minor surgery upon himself to re-inflate his lung."

Sulu felt sick at the thought, he felt Uhura tense beside him and knew she was listening to the conversation too. She'd got as far as unwrapping the pieces of Spock's shirt that had been holding the wound together and had begun to clean it was antiseptic wipes. The wound had started to bleed again although not as heavily as before.

McCoy cried out as Spock took the last of his bandages off, peeling them away gently from his damaged skin. Kirk let out a gasp too and clutched at his friend tighter. "Oh Bones!"

Sulu was glad he couldn't see the extent of the doctor's injuries. Instead he found himself fixated on the pile of bloodied bandages that had been left at his side.

Spock had stopped and was staring at the doctor's back. Sulu wondered what he was waiting for and then realised with horror that the Vulcan didn't know what to do. The whole ship had been extensively trained in first aid and Sulu himself had been on the receiving end of Spock's confident administrations. Sulu didn't want to know what level of injury would stop the Vulcan in his tracks.

McCoy lifted his head just slightly off Kirk's shoulder. "My bag." He suggested.

Kirk eased the strap of the satchel over McCoy's head and emptied the contents out onto the deck. Hyposprays spilled out across the floor, along with a large knife, spare phaser and a handheld dermal regenerator. Kirk picked up a hypospray, the first one he grabbed had already been emptied so he searched though for a full one, while still holding McCoy against him with his other arm.

McCoy shook his head.

"Bones, you should take a pain killer." Kirk insisted.

"No. Not those." His voice came out as a ragged wheeze.

"Captain those are stimulants." Spock said. He looked at the hypos on the floor. "Doctor how many of these have you had?"

"Not sure, they keep wearing off quickly."

"Stimulants? You mean those drugs you won't let any of us take?"

"You've had them before. Once." McCoy countered.

"That is because they are highly addictive and put an undue strain on the human heart." Spock reminded.

"Yeah, I remember the lecture. And the come-down." Kirk his friend a look.

McCoy reached out and his fingers brushed on the regenerator instead although he didn't appear to have the strength to lift the heavy object up. Kirk took it away from him and handed it to Spock.

"Doctor, your wounds are extensive. I calculate that without first repairing your internal organs and your ribs that repairing your skin is superfluous."

McCoy grimaced. "I know. But I couldn't fit the internal regenerator in my bag. I had one session with it in Med Bay. The bone knitter won't work, too much damage. Just patch me up, I'll do the rest when I get to a proper medical facility."

"As we do not know the conditions of the planet we are going to, that may be some time." Spock pointed out.

McCoy nodded wearily. "I know."

Spock appeared to have been convinced by the doctor's reasoning as he picked up the dermal regenerator and turned it on, programming the settings. As he moved it over the wound McCoy hissed in pain. Kirk had an expression on his face that suggested his heart was about to break, he held his friend tighter. Unbelievably, McCoy noticed and patted his arm.

Spock also looked upset, if you knew how to read his stony expression. "I believe there is a sedative in the first aid kit that would not contraindicate with the stimulants you have already taken."

McCoy shook his head. "No, not until we're out of trouble. Can't have you lugging my unconscious ass round in a firefight."

"We'll protect you Bones." Kirk argued.

McCoy smiled grimly, "I know you will Jim. Doesn't change my answer."

Sulu noticed a stray tear run down Uhura's cheek. She had her hands full as she wrapped swathes of clean bandage round his thigh so he used his thumb to wipe it away. She looked up at him and smiled.

They were interrupted by Scotty who came out of the cockpit. He stood resting a hand against the doorway and surveyed the pitiful sight of his crewmates. They all looked up at his entrance and he looked guilty at the intrusion he'd caused.

"Capt'n, we've managed to hail the rest of the crew. They landed on the outskirts of a small settlement. Lieutenant Giotto has managed to gather most o' the crew together and has search parties out fer the rest."

"Do we know anything about their capabilities?" Spock commented.

Scotty frowned, "Giotto is working on that now. We're gonna have bigger problems tae deal with though. Our scanners are picking up a couple o' big ships tailing us, including one that might be Romulan."

"That's them," McCoy said, slight panic in his voice. "The pirates were supposed to be selling us to a Romulan Commander called L'Ren. She was on a Warbird heading to a meeting point. I sent a distress call on Federation channels, sent them the planet co-ordinates and a copy of Rydan's conversation with her. They'll know where to find us but we're a long way into uncharted territory and I don't know if anyone's even picked my communications up yet."

Kirk cursed and started to hasten to the cockpit but stopped when he remembered he had his best friend in his arms. He looked at McCoy with a look of torment.

"Go on Jim," he said gently. "Spock's got me."

Kirk nodded with tired resignation and got to his feet. "Come on Scotty. Let's get out of this next mess."

* * *

Sorry guys, the cliffhangers just don't stop! ;-) As always, I really appreciate the follows, favourites and reviews. It makes my day getting these little alerts, so please keep them coming, the reviews especially. I love to know what you think.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Kirk had to wrench himself away from his friend to go into the cockpit of the shuttle. He wanted nothing more than to hold him and find a way to fix the doctor, the way the doctor had always been there to fix him. But he knew the way to do it would be end this whole mess so reluctantly he let the injured man slip from his embrace as he got to his feet. As he stood his eyes met Scotty's. Scotty looked tired and upset, he smiled at his captain grimly and placed a hand on his back as he allowed him passed into the cockpit. Jim knew he had to put his game face on and quickly if he was going to get them through.

He took a seat in the cockpit next to Chekov who was concentrating on the control panel in front of him. He was trying to coax every last ounce of power into the shuttles engines in order to outrun the ships that were following them.

"How we doing?" He asked the young Russian with a reassuring smile.

"Not good Keptin." He grimaced. "They're gaining on us. We are just staying out of range of their tractor beam. If they wanted us dead we would be by now."

"Scotty," Kirk glanced over his shoulder to where Scotty was standing leaning on the back of Chekov's chair. "Any chance you can give this old thing a bit of a boost?"

"Aye, I think so Sir. If they don' wannae shoot us, I could mebe take the shields offline, reroute the power tae the thrusters."

Kirk nodded. "They had something to jam our shields, I think it's safe to assume they wouldn't do us much good anyway. Anything else you can cut back on?"

"Lighting? Comms? The life support system is being taxed already wi' there bein' too many o' us, an' I doubt Len'd thank yer fer making it even harder tae breathe."

Kirk nodded. "Shields and lighting then Scotty. Leave me comms."

"Aye Sir, I'll have them eating ooer space dust in just a jiffy." Scotty crouched down behind the chairs and ripped the doors a panel off the wall to access the wiring.

"How is the doctor Keptin?" Chekov asked, his expression filled with worry.

Kirk gave him a warm smile. "You know McCoy, tougher than he looks." He said with more confidence than he felt. "Let Spock worry about him, we've got jobs to do."

"I know but…" the young man's voice quivered.

"No," Kirk interrupted firmly. "I don't want to hear it Ensign. I need you to concentrate on outrunning these bastards. Right now, that's all you need to be thinking about. You get us to that planet without them boarding us and let me worry about the rest. Bones'll be fine, you'll see. Now, set me up a comm channel with Giotto."

* * *

McCoy rested awkwardly against the hull with one shoulder, his body twisted to allow Spock access to his left side. The regenerator itched and burned as it stimulated new skin cell growth. He wasn't sure how long it would take to repair himself this way, ideally he would have grown a skin graft in the lab, could've been patched up within a couple of hours. As it was, the whole thing could be futile anyway. Spock had been right, there was so much other damage that a bit of dermal regen was too little too late. Spock had known, McCoy had been afraid that he was going to say too much but thankfully he'd seen the look that McCoy had given him and had kept the rest of his concerns to himself. McCoy knew that Jim needed to be focussed if he was to get them out of trouble, and he wouldn't be if he was worrying about him.

Jim. McCoy sighed thinking about him. As soon as he'd felt his friend's arms wrap around him, he'd felt a wave of relief. He'd sunk into Kirk's arms and allowed him to take his weight. He wanted to stay that way, but the longer he allowed the captain to keep him in his embrace, the more he felt his defences slip away. And it wasn't just exhaustion and pain, there were other things lingering in the back of his mind that he wasn't yet ready to acknowledge. So it was almost with relief when Kirk left him to go to the cockpit. He'd rested his shoulder back against the shuttle wall and run a shaking hand over his face, by the time he dropped his hand back down to his lap, the mask was back on.

He was twisted away from Spock but he could feel the Vulcan's eyes boring into him. But Spock he could cope with, Spock was cold and unemotional and wasn't touching him, except for a cold hand on his arm serving to keep his trembling body still while he worked the regen. Clinical, that was the word, and it was what he needed right then in order to keep the mask in place. That was until he started to feel something creeping at the corners of his consciousness. It was a weird feeling but he knew what it was instantly so he sought it out to shut it down.

 _'_ _Spock! I know what you're trying to do.'_ He thought loudly.

 _'_ _Doctor, I am only trying to help. I could attempt to ease your pain.'_ The words came to him in his head, almost as though he was hearing them, and yet at the same time being very aware that he was not. Like when he would get a song stuck in his head.

 _'_ _You've offered that before and I've always said no. Why do you think today is going to be any different?'_

 _'_ _Because to my knowledge you have never been in as much pain as today. You don't want the Captain to know but…"_

 _'_ _Jim can't know! He can't afford to be worrying about me, he needs to concentrate.'_

 _'_ _I understand. However, I believe he would worry about you less if he knew I was taking some of your pain away.'_

 _'_ _But wouldn't that have an effect on you?'_

 _'_ _Yes.'_ The voice in his head seemed somewhat resigned. Like he knew he had lost this argument already. _'I would feel only a fraction of your pain however any mind meld can be physically draining, those in the service of combatting discomfort even more so.'_

 _'_ _Right! And then there'd be three of us out of action instead of just me and Sulu. Not gonna happen. Wait, aren't we melding now?'_

 _'_ _No.'_ Spock thought at him calmly. _'I am not in your mind and cannot read your thoughts. I hope you know I would never initiate a meld without your permission. This is…'_ He paused as though he was trying to come up with a way to explain. _'You are in great distress Doctor, and as a result you are projecting a significant level of emotion which any telepath would be aware of. I myself am struggling to contain my emotions and it must be that you picked up on my own projections. It appears you may have more extrasensory ability than you give yourself credit for. I was quite surprised you were able to communicate in this manner.'_

 _'_ _Huh.'_ McCoy was so tired he don't even know what to say to that. It was a revelation to be dwelt on another time.

 _'_ _You're tired Leonard.'_ McCoy almost balked at the use of his first name, it was a sure sign of the Vulcan's hidden sentimentality. _'I know the regenerator is uncomfortable but you should try to get some sleep. You will need it if you want your body to have any chance of healing.'_

 _'_ _You're right.'_ McCoy conceded. _'But I want you to promise, no melding and no sedatives.'_

 _'_ _I promise Leonard.'_

McCoy shut his eyes and leaned more heavily against the hull of the shuttle. The last of the adrenaline had fully worn off now and the come-down was making him sleepy. He could still feel Spock on the edge of his mind and drew comfort from it as he drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

He woke up again to a loud curse from their Scotsman. He opened his eyes blearily to find that he'd fallen asleep curled up on his better side. Someone had found a couple of blankets in the back of the shuttle and had draped one across his body, folding another under his head. He was shivering under it, although when he wiped a hand over his face he realised he was hot and clammy. Infection or stimulant withdrawal, he wasn't quite sure. His ribs had been bandaged again but they still hurt, a lot. He wanted to pull the blanket up over his head and carry on sleeping but a careful hand touched his shoulder, "Doctor," Spock said gently. That was all he needed to realise that their present circumstances required his attention.

He struggled to sit up, instantly more alert. He couldn't feel the steady vibrations of the engine. Wherever they were, they'd stopped. The rest of the crew were in a hurry. Kirk and Chekov were stood at the doors to the shuttle where Uhura was handing out phasers from the shuttle stash. Scotty was helping Sulu limp his way into the pilot's seat but once he got him settled in there he came rushing back and took up one of the phasers that Uhura offered him.

"Spock, help me up." McCoy asked, placing a hand against the hull and trying to push himself to his feet with limited success.

"Doctor, allow us to handle this. I merely wished to inform you we had reached the planet."

McCoy shook his head. He reached out and found the disruptor rifle that he had abandoned earlier, slinging the strap over his head and trying again to get his feet under him. "Where's that bag of hypos?"

"You have already taken too many." Spock observed. "It is already surprising that you have not sent yourself into cardiac arrest. Doctor, stay here. You can guard the shuttle from here, prevent anyone from boarding." He suggested.

McCoy knew he was being manipulated, Spock had given him a job to do just to keep him safe. But as he knew he didn't have the strength to stand he just nodded his acceptance, adjusted the rifle so that it was aimed at the doorway and took a steadying breath.

Spock joined the others and armed himself. Then Kirk opened the shuttle blast doors and lowered the boarding ramp. McCoy's eyes stung at the sudden bright light and hot, dusty air that flooded into the shuttle. He was far enough back that he was still shaded but could see dry, cracked earth stretching out towards the horizon and a trio of pale suns in a purple tinged sky. He watched Kirk walk cautiously down the ramp and out of view, flanked by the rest of his loyal crew.

"Where is that asshole who killed my crew?" A familiar voice growled.

Kirk's voice was cold, "You won't get to him without coming through me. And I'm guessing your Romulan lady friend there wouldn't take too kindly to you destroying the merchandise."

"True," Rydan said. "But I'm sure she won't mind if I offer her a discount in exchange for one of the others." He then shouted, loud enough that he knew McCoy would hear, "What do you think Asshole? You've sacrificed yourself for them once already, who are you gonna do it for this time? Would you throw yourself in front of the Vulcan? Or is it just young boys you have a thing for?"

"Shut yer mouth ye bastard!" Scotty shouted back.

"Come on out Asshole! Or I'll start picking off your buddies until you do."

McCoy took a big breath to control the rising panic, he tried to get up and slipped, his unsteady legs unable to hold his weight.

"I'm counting to three and then I'm blowing the Vulcan's brains out." He called.

"Shit!" McCoy muttered, almost frantic now. His flailing hand found the satchel he'd been carrying.

"One!" Rydan shouted outside.

He flipped open the bag and threw his hand inside. The others had taken the weapons but the hypos were still there. He jammed one into his shoulder and pressed the trigger.

"Two!"

He felt the synthetic adrenaline flowing to his veins, his heartbeat racing, the pain seeping away. This time he had the strength in his arms to push himself up, the power in his legs to keep himself on his feet.

"Three!"

"Wait!" McCoy bellowed as he made his way to the door.

* * *

Authors Notes: So, I was thinking I'd have this pretty much wrapped up by now, but Spock gave me a disapproving eyebrow and demanded he have a bit more time with our good doctor. Thanks for sticking with me this long, almost at the big finish. Not too late to leave that review, they really make my day and I could use the motivation.


	10. Chapter 10

Hi everyone! Here is the deal, I am going to give you two chapters, finishing the story and finally relieving you from all the cliffhangers, but in return you have to click on that button at the end and let me know what you think. It takes less than a minute and means a lot to me, it also gives me the motivation to keep writing. I also try to get back to my reviewers and read and review their stories in turn. That's fair isn't it? Hope to hear from you all.

* * *

Chapter 10

"Wait!" McCoy squinted into the harsh sunlight as he stepped through the doorway of the shuttle. He stood at the top of the ramp leaning heavily against its side, right hand in the ready position at the trigger on the rifle but not yet aiming it at anyone. The others stood at the bottom of the ramp, unwilling to go any further. McCoy presumed this was to guard the shuttle and by doing that guard himself and Sulu.

Beyond his crew, he could see that the pirate captain and what was left of his crew stood ahead of them. There were more pirates now, another pirate ship had clearly brought back up. The motley mix of humanoids stood heavily armed and bristling with the need to draw blood. In another day, although it felt like in another lifetime, McCoy would have been terrified, now he found he couldn't care. Next to Rydan, the captain, was the Romulan commander and half a dozen of her soldiers. They were all dressed in their military uniforms and brandishing disruptor rifles much like McCoy's own. Behind the group were two of the pirate vessels and a shuttle from the Romulan warbird, situated not too far from each other on the dusty expanse of scrubland.

As he got to the doorway, Kirk glanced round and mouthed 'stall them' at him. McCoy wished he'd been filled in on the plan, he had no idea what was happening, all he knew was he had to do anything to keep his crew safe. "Don't shoot. I'm here." He offered, his voice gruff and cold, "You can have me as long as you don't hurt my crew. But you harm a hair on any of them and I'll open fire. We'll see just how many of you I can take down before you can stop me."

The pirate, Rydan laughed. "You've got some big fucking balls asshole. Come out here!"

"Not really." McCoy countered, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other so that he didn't collapse as he walked as nonchalantly as he could towards them. "I just figure you want to get paid. And if you cause me to raise this weapon the first people I am taking out are you and the bitch who is willing to pay you." He reached the bottom of the shuttle ramp and Kirk and Spock stepped aside to let him pass. "You see, my crew is all I care about now. You can threaten my life, but it's not worth a damn, I'm already as good as dead. So, you have to wonder to yourself, am I prepared to go down fighting? And I think you know the answer to that."

McCoy came to a halt a few metres in front of the pirate captain, just out of the man's fighting arc but close enough to show he wasn't afraid. He was an inch or two taller than the pirate and locked his eyes with him, staring the pirate down as though he was just daring the man to make a move.

The pirate seemed to falter under the steely gaze for just a fraction of a second but then he got his composure back and that terrible grin crossed his features. He stepped forward and swung a punch. Miraculously, the synthetic adrenaline was still working and McCoy reacted faster than he would've thought his tortured body would have allowed. A split second before Rydan's closed fist connected with his jaw, he pulled the trigger.

The feeling of the bony fist catching at his chin and the sound of the disruptor rifle discharge seemed to happen simultaneously. McCoy staggered back under the impact, his failing body unable to stand firm against the force, his knees giving out he fell heavily to the dust. But the shot had met it's mark too, causing Rydan to let out a howl of pain and rage as the blast hit him point blank in the right thigh, causing him to crumple to the ground at the Romulan's feet. She looked down at him with disgust but turned her attention back to McCoy who was sat on the ground, legs splayed in front of him where he'd fallen on his backside. He grinned, feeling his blood run down his chin from a split lip and relishing the picture he was sure it was painting.

"Consider that a warning," he spat at the pirate who was crumpled on the floor and clutching at his leg as he tried to stop the heavy blood flow. McCoy didn't trust himself to stand again so he sat where he was but kept the weapon trained, not on Rydan but on the Romulan Commander.

She glanced down at him and sneered, although lowered her own weapon slightly. "Enough of this ridiculous posturing!" She snarled.

It was then that McCoy heard a rumbling sound, deep enough to shake the ground beneath them. He peered passed the throng of soldiers and mercenaries to watch as a formation of small fighter ships appeared on the horizon, aiming straight for them at speed. It turned everyone's heads and collectively they watched as the vessels rained explosives down on the enemy vessels, causing all three to become engulfed in flames and smoke, hot enough for the group to be blasted with the heat of it.

There was a shout from Kirk, McCoy barely heard it over the ringing in his ears but he didn't need to be told what to do. He opened fire, spraying disruptor fire wildly into the crowd of thugs. He was only partially aware that the rest of his crew had done likewise, he could see the shots fire over his head. The fighter ships swooped overhead raining short range fire down on the group of pirates and Romulans, some coming too close for comfort. The pirates had opened fire back on them and he felt a blast scorch his shoulder. He registered the feeling of it, but not the pain, almost as though he was disconnected to his body in some way. But then McCoy felt a pair of hands on each side of him, grabbing him under his arms and dragging him towards the shuttle. McCoy let them do it, continuing to fire his rifle wildly. He sought out the pirate captain, who was struggling to his feet in vain, and their eyes met. McCoy allowed himself a smile as he trained the weapon on the man and fired, watching him crumple to the dirt just as the doctor's rescuers got him to the safety of the shuttle.

* * *

He awoke to a steady beeping and the nose tingling smell of antiseptic. His chest felt tight, with a bone deep ache that radiated out to his entire body. He took a moment to acknowledge this and the relief it gave him, before opening his eyes to the familiar surroundings of a private room in the Med Bay ICU. He looked down at himself, sheets and a blanket pulled up high to his chest, an IV sticking out of his left wrist and a pale hand holding his even paler right one. He smiled softly at the captain it belonged to, who'd fallen asleep in a chair beside his bed, head back, snoring softly. McCoy gave the hand a gentle squeeze and Kirk bolted awake.

"Hey," Kirk uttered quietly once he'd cleared his sleep addled mind enough to realise what had woken him. "God it's good to see you back with us. You scared me Bones." The captain's voice was unsteady. McCoy noted the usually flippant captain was visibly shaken, his lip quivered and his eyes were quickly filling with unshed tears. McCoy gave his hand a firmer squeeze.

"Sorry." He mumbled, his throat raw and mouth dry.

Kirk wiped his eyes hastily with the back of his free hand and smiled. The other one refused to give up his grip on his friend. "Don't be sorry." He said, grabbing a plastic cup of water from the bedside table and helping McCoy take a sip. "I just hope I never have to go through that again. How are you feeling?"

"Like I was shot. Repeatedly." McCoy said quietly. "What happened?"

"On our way down to the planet, Giotto put me in touch with the colony leaders. Looks like they've been having their own troubles with pirates for some time. I promised them that if their lent us some firepower then the Federation would assist them in tackling their pirate problem. Once we escaped the exchange then it was easy to prepare a squadron and take back the Enterprise from the remaining pirates. They'd taken off with it but we were able to track the rolling distress call you put out and get it back before they took it too far. Scotty's fixed the power source and shields and we are headed to the nearest Starbase for some shore leave."

McCoy nodded and took a deep, pained breath, glad his distress call had worked, even if it hadn't resulted in Starfleet coming to their rescue. "How long have I been out?" He asked, realising that an awful lot had seemed to have happened since his last memories of being dragged out of the firefight.

"Almost three weeks." Kirk looked about ready to tear up again. "When Spock and I dragged you back into the shuttle we thought we were losing you. When the last of that adrenaline shot wore off you had a heart attack. Spock performed CPR on you the whole way while Sulu flew us to the settlement. They managed to stabilise your heart but didn't have the resources to repair the damage, they put you in an induced coma to keep you going while we got the Enterprise back. We transferred you back here a week ago and started growing you a new lung and skin grafts right away. You had surgery yesterday and M'Benga is happy with how it went. He repaired some of your ribs but others had great big holes blasted out of them so your bottom three on the left are now titanium. I'm hoping they'll make you a little more phaser proof next time." He joked halfheartedly.

"Shit." McCoy exclaimed softly. He'd known really that's that what it would take, but listening to it reeled out like that was still hard to process.

"Bones, I don't know how you got through all that but I'm glad you did. You saved us all. And I don't know where I'd be without you."

"Stuck in a Romulan torture room?" Bones interjected.

"Well yeah, but…"

"Or in some dingy cell having to listen to Spock drone on about how it was illogical to torture someone who never paid any attention to Starfleets briefings anyway?" He smiled.

"Bones," Kirk admonished, "I'm trying to declare my heartfelt gratitude and undying love here and you're ruining it!"

McCoy laughed momentarily but stopped when he realised how much it hurt.

Something caught Kirk's eye through the window into the hall and he waved. "I think someone else is here to see you." He smiled. "I'm going to check on the bridge and I'll be back later." He slipped his hand from McCoy's and stood, as he left the room he held the door open and let Chekov through.

Chekov stood hesitantly in the doorway, his whole body appearing tense and awkward.

"Hey kid." McCoy smiled, "You doin' okay?"

"I vanted to see how you vere. And vanted to say thank you." He said rapidly, approaching the bed with a nervous energy, "I am so sorry you almost died because of me and I don't know how I can repay you."

"Hey," McCoy said gently, reaching out and clasping Chekov's arm. "I'm okay. We're all alive and we made it home." He said, thinking fondly of the ship for the first time in years. "I can't ask for more than that. You did a really good job too, flew that shuttle out of there against all the odds, if you hadn't been able to outrun them we'd all be in a Romulan torture chamber right now." He pointed out.

"But you vhy did you push me out of the vay? You must have known you vould get hurt."

McCoy made sure the young Ensign was looking him in the eye before he spoke, "Because we're a family. And I'd do anything to keep my family safe."

Chekov dropped his gaze to stare down at his feet, overcome with emotion.

"I'd do it again too. Even knowing how it would turn out, even if I knew that I'd die doing it. You mean a lot to all the people here Pavel, we care about you, I hope you can see that."

The young Ensign nodded, when he looked up again McCoy saw the salt tracks down his cheeks. "I can."

"Good," McCoy said, trying to bring back some semblance of his usual gruffness. "Now off you go and let an old man get some sleep. And tell Jim if he wants to come back later he'd better sneak me in some Saurian brandy."

Chekov left and McCoy settled down in his bed. He closed his eyes and listened to the steady beeping of the heart monitor, the underlying hum of the spacecraft at warp speed and wondered, perhaps for the millionth time, how a simple country doctor from Georgia could end up finding the family he'd always wanted in the far reaches of space.


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue

McCoy had lost track of the days, easily done when living in a glorified tin can and when every shift was the same. But now he was trying hard to remember and he couldn't. He did know it had been too long. Too many nights of waking up in a cold sweat, his heart racing, feeling the urge to vomit. He disentangled his legs from the sweat soaked sheets and stumbled to his tiny en-suite bathroom. He asked for the lights at 60% and they turned on instantly, bright enough to see clearly, not too bright as to hurt his eyes. He gripped the sink with both hands and stared at himself grimly in the mirror.

Sill a mess, he berated himself. He was unshaven, for a few days now, and his sweat-soaked hair was stuck up in all directions. His body was still too thin from the three week coma and he knew no amount of work in the gym was going to help until he started eating properly again. Some things had healed without a mark, the bruising to his face and his split lip had healed before he'd woken up. The phaser burn on his shoulder was gone completely, he barely remembered getting it and would have forgotten all about it except he'd read about it in his medical report. The deep black bruising on his too visible ribs had faded to a pale greenish yellow. Soon all that would be left of the ordeal would be the barely noticeable scars around the edges of the skin grafts and even they would fade over time. It would get to a point where all traces of the ordeal were gone, so why did it still feel as raw as though it happened yesterday?

Suddenly furious with himself he clenched his fist and sent it crashing into the mirror. The pain of the impact was momentarily satisfying, sending shockwaves up his arm. The mirror shattered and the broken shards slipped into the sink, tiny slivers embedding themselves into his knuckles. He gazed back at what was left, enough to see his left eye, tired looking, frown-lined forehead and messy hair, then nothing but battleship grey wall until the bottom where it had managed to cling to the wall enough to reflect his slim, almost malnourished looking waist back at him.

He heard a noise in the other room and it made him jump. He cursed knowing who it would be. He pulled some of the larger pieces of mirror from his knuckles and dabbed the blood off with a towel before stepping back into his room to find Kirk and Spock stood in his bedroom staring at the crumpled sheets. Spock was dressed in uniform as always, looking as neat as ever. Kirk had clearly only just woken up himself and had thrown on an old academy tee shirt and pair of sweat pants. He was surreptitiously clutching a bottle of brandy down by his side. They both looked up as he appeared in the room and he could feel them studying him.

"Do neither of you have a concept of privacy?" McCoy growled, wishing he wasn't stood in just his boxers, bruised and scarred torso on show for all to see.

"I heard a noise that roused me from my meditation." Spock explained. "I was concerned that you might be hurt."

"Right!" McCoy rolled his eyes, "And so your first thought, instead of coming over here to see for yourself was to wake Jim? And Jim's first thought was 'better bring booze'?"

"That about sums it up." Jim replied at the same time as Spock said, "Your hand is bleeding."

McCoy looked down at his hand, thin trails of blood were running from some of the larger cuts and down between his fingers. He retrieved the hand towel and wrapped it round his knuckles.

"I'm fine," he insisted, "I just want to go back to sleep. You should too, you have a shift tomorrow."

"Actually, I don't." Kirk said, "Because I'm the captain and can make these decisions. Spock can cover for me on the bridge while I take a personal day to look after a friend who is clearly not fine." He waved the bottle of brandy at him and then went into the living area. "You coming or you gonna make me drink all this by myself?" He called out from the other room. McCoy could hear a clinking sound as Kirk retrieved a pair of glass tumblers from McCoy's whiskey cupboard.

Spock stayed in the bedroom and raised an eyebrow at McCoy. McCoy sighed heavily and then grabbed a plain black tee shirt from a drawer, slipped it on and followed his captain into the living room, with Spock on his heels.

Kirk was already on the small two-seater and was pouring the brandy into the glasses he'd found. Spock took the desk chair and McCoy collapsed down onto the sofa beside his captain. He sat slumped and picked at his broken knuckles. When Kirk picked up a glass and offered it, he took it but rested it on his knee instead of drinking.

"Still having nightmares?" Kirk asked, giving him a concerned look.

"How do you know I'm having nightmares?" McCoy asked.

"The captain and I have been concerned for you for some time." Spock explained in his calming tone that refused to betray any signs of concern at all. "You have been visibly fatigued, you are not eating adequately, you are even more emotionally volatile than usual and perhaps most worryingly you have made no mention of wishing to return to your post as CMO."

McCoy huffed, "I just need a bit more time is all."

"Are you still in pain Doctor?"

"No. Well, yes. But it's not that." He could feel both pairs of eyes boring into him, so he held out his hand, the uninjured one. As he was holding the glass it was even more obvious that his hand was shaking significantly, the movement causing the amber liquid to slosh up the sides. "How can I be a surgeon if I can't stop my hands from shaking?" He hated the sound of defeat in his voice. Disgusted with himself he downed the measure of alcohol and placed the glass back on the coffee table before folding his arms across his chest, his gaze fixed to his feet.

"Is that still from the stimulants you used?" Kirk asked, upset that until now he hadn't noticed. Then a thought crossed his face that horrified him, "You're not still using them are you?"

"What? No! I mean, I can't say the thought hasn't crossed my mind but no." He shrugged, "There are studies that show it's a potential permanent side-effect, although it's more common in long-term users. It could be that every time I close my eyes I see my hands covered in blood and brain matter. I keep having dreams of bashing that Klingon's skull in but then I look closer and it's you, or Spock, or Chekov. I'm supposed to fix people but in the end I lost track of how many people I killed. I'm not really sure how to reconcile who I thought I was with who I am now." He sighed again, loudly, and covered his face with his hands. When he took them away again he looked at Kirk, "I'm not sure I'm fit to be a doctor anymore."

"Kirk reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Bones, I've got no problem reconciling who you were with who you are, because you haven't changed a bit. You're the person I trust with my life, have done since the day I met you. You always put your patients, and this crew first and sometimes I ask too much of you but you do it anyway because you don't know how not to put your life and soul into everything you do."

"Doctor," Spoke added, "If you hadn't done what you did, there is a 94.4% probability that we would have been either transferred into the hands of the Romulans or killed. And I believe my calculations to be optimistic at best. So already we are at the tally of having saved six people. Now if you consider the possibility that one of us could have broken under torture and revealed Federation secrets, then it is likely that you have saved a great many others who will never who how close they came to being in danger. It is illogical to wonder what you would have done differently, as what has been done is done, however were you able to replay the scenario, would you have made different decisions?"

McCoy shook his head, "No, I'd do the same thing. But I still don't like where it leaves me. Starfleet are asking when I expect to be back and…"

"You leave Starfleet to me Bones." Kirk said, "you take all the time you need, if they want you back sooner they can suck it! We'll manage. But you will be back Bones, because I know you, you're too stubborn to quit. But you need to let us look after you every once in a while. Deal?" He poured another round of brandy and handed the glass back to McCoy.

McCoy looked at the offered drink, and at his two friends. Slowly, he accepted the glass and clinked it with Kirk's, giving the man a weary smile, "Deal."

The End

* * *

Hope you liked it, don't forget to let me know what you think.


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